Wolf Moon
by marahh
Summary: Alliances are made and battle lines are drawn between two emerging packs, but when a mysterious monster begins terrorizing Beacon Hills and a ghost from Charlie's past reappears, the white wolf will have to face her inner darkness if she wishes to save her friends. SEQUEL TO: "The Killing Moon" and second story of "Teen Wolf: Moon Series" (Season 2 - eventual StilesxOC)
1. Chapter 1

**WOO-HOO! SEASON 2 HERE WE GOOOO!**

**Just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported the first story of my "Teen Wolf Moon Series". THE KILLING MOON would have never been completed if it wasn't for all of you! You guys literally made me so beyond passionate to continue this story, so I dedicate that first story to all of you, as well as this sequel! **

**I hope WOLF MOON lives up to everyone's expectations, so as always, if you guys wanna follow it, favorite it, and REVIEW, I'd be honored. **

**For anyone who never read Killing Moon and stumbled across this, still leave your thoughts, and if you're interested, check out the first story if youre interested and wanna get to know my OC from the beginning. This chapter recaps a lot, but also gives more insight into charlie's past and her... wait for it! history involving gerard! DUN DUN DUNNNN! :) teehee, be warned of cliff-hangers! **

**Special thanks to: ****High Serpent King, aliciasellers75, resinswhy, xxxanniexx, "guest", amaya, msspicyjalapeno, SortofForever, XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, TheEndGame731, klandgraf2007 - LOVE YOU GUYS**

**Okay, well I only own my OC! The rest is from the genius mind of Jeff Davis!**

**Also, I'm making another 8tracks for WOLF MOON (I'll let you know when it's posted), but this first chapter is inspired by OF VERONA's "Dark in my Imagination" - i pictured it playing at the very end of this chapter!**

**Okay, welllll read away my darlings and ENJOY THE FIRST CHAPTER OF WOLF MOON (lemme know your thoughts/suggestions) xoxo marahh**

***PS: large sections of ITALIX are flashbacks/memories**

**ONE: DARK IN MY IMAGINATION**

The night was cool and crisp, with a slight breeze that whipped fallen leaves around my feet as I sprinted through the shadowy woods of Beacon Hills. Listening to the chirping crickets, I looked up and caught glimpses of the starry sky and pale moon.

Concentrating on keeping my breathing steady, I jumped over a fallen log and into a tall evergreen as the long, lonely howl of a distant coyote echoed throughout the forest.

Feeling the icy wind dry the sweat off of my brow as I leapt from branch to branch, I felt my torturous migraine disappear, but only for a brief moment.

Three days.

Three days since the dance. 72 hours since my secret had been revealed and my father had died. 4,320 minutes since I promised myself not to end up like Peter, to get control over my abilities, and to start fresh.

Three days.

That's all it took for me to regret swearing to get clean, and now, having worked out for my third straight night in a row, I tried to block out the nausea and feverish sweats as I remembered the advice Scott McCall and Stile Stilinski had given me.

_"Well what triggers it for you? What gets you worked up?" the young beta bombarded me with questions, whilst he and his best friend continued to stare at me as I sat on the edge of Stiles' bed._

_ "You mean what makes me anxious or pisses me off?" I asked, brows raised whilst I picked a dried leaf out of my hair._

_ "Yeah," he nodded._

_ Making a face, I began rattling off anything that peeved me: "Ugh, people trying to kill me… or my family… or my friends," taking in Stilinski and McCall's nods of agreement, I merely resumed my list: "Then there's people who are annoying. And, um, dumbasses, know-it-alls, hipsters, the touchy-feely type, pretty much all authority figures, overly happy people… and, oh! Those pains in the asses that follow you around retails stores trying to ram promotions down your throat. They're the worst…"_

_ Eyes wide as both teenagers stared at me in awe, Scott spoke slowly: "So… everything…"_

_ "Hey, I'm a Hale. What did you expect?" I inquired with a shrug, but soon winced in pain. _

_ Nodding in complete agreement, Stiles muttered: "Good point."_

_"Maybe you just need to relax and, ugh find something that gets your mind off everything," McCall offered weakly._

_ Sluggishly healing wound smarting to the point where I was now seeing spots, I sourly barked: "My dad just died, my insides are practically falling out, Derek's now the alpha, and let's not forget the fact that the Argents know about us," I pulled back the gauze from my stomach and side before sarcastically adding: "But sure, relaxing should be a cakewalk…"_

_ Light brown eyes practically bulging out of his head, Stilinski immediately gagged once he saw my gory wound beginning to ooze._

_ "Ugh!" the green teenager grimaced, clearly trying not to vomit from the disgusting and pussing claw mark. "That's gross."_

_ Ignoring the squeamish teenager's useless remark, I simply opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and prepared to disinfect the injury._

_"You just need to find a distraction," Scott suggested thoughtfully, obviously not as sickened as our silently hyperventilating companion. _

_Biting down on my cheek as I dumped the alcohol all over my raw, exposed insides, I hissed in pain and retorted grumpily: "Not all of us have an Allison, Scott…"_

_Unable to look away at the disturbing sight of my dabbing at the discolored discharge leaking from the cut, Stilinski blurted out in thorough revulsion: "C-could you maybe not do that on my bed?"_

_Shooting him an irritated look, both Scott and I carried on with our conversation._

_"Okay, yeah, but maybe you can find something else," McCall responded hopefully._

_Sure, it was easy for him to be positive! He was the one with a girlfriend who found out what he was and _still_ said that she loved him!_

_"I did find something else," I wished my body was still in shock so that I wouldn't have to feel this pain on top of my torturous withdrawal symptoms. _

_"Something besides pills," Scott replied, his chocolate brown eyes steadily fixated on me._

_"And alcohol," Stiles weakly chimed in from his spot across the room, his sheet white face buried in his hands as he tried not to stare at my ghastly wound. _

_Bandaging the last, lovely gift Peter Hale would ever grace me with, I pulled Stiles' oversized batman t-shirt down and sighed in exasperation: "Guys, I don't know what you want me to tell you. I'm a delta. Lack of control kinda comes with the territory."_

_"O-okay," Scott stammered whilst he thought out loud. "Well, um, what does Derek do? How does he have so much self-control?"_

_"He taps into his anger… which in case you forgot, that technique doesn't exactly work for me," I reminded them of the grim truth. _

_"Yeah, like at all," Stiles added, brows raised as he tentatively walked back over._

_Glaring at the lanky, pale teenager, I simply crossed my arms as Stilinski cleared his throat and flashed an awkwardly weak smirk._

_ "There has to be something he does though," Scott pressed. _

_"You mean besides standing in the shadows and brooding for hours at a time?" I quipped simply. "Nah, not really…" _

_Pausing, both teenagers merely looked at one another in discomfort, but then Stiles contemplatively asked: "Well what gave you control tonight? I mean, you wolfed out… like actually turned into a wolf. Which, by the way, how _did_ you do that? And why_ _do you turn into a white one? I'd say maybe it's a family thing, like all Hales can do it, but Derek can't… s-so it has to be something that…"_

_"Stiles," I cut the dorky teenager's rant off, stopping him from getting sidetracked any further._

_Glancing at both Scott and my own raised brows, Stiles nodded and cleared his throat: "Right… well, what I was originally saying was that you always say you lose control and black out when you shift fully, but you didn't tonight."_

_Thinking how fortunate it truly was that I hadn't killed everybody back at my old home that evening, I merely shrugged and sighed casually: "Freak stroke of luck?"_

_"No, something had to have kept you focused!" the energetic teen paced around at a dizzying speed, trying to wrack his brains for a possible explanation._

_"What were you thinking about when you shifted?" Scott asked._

_Running a hand through my raven hair, I confessed truthfully: "I don't know. Ripping Kate's heart out maybe?"_

_ "Well that's promising," Stilinski sardonically remarked._

_"What else? You had to have had more on your mind than that," McCall pressed further._

_ "Well after that bitch died and I found out the truth about Laura, then I concentrated on killing Peter," I nonchalantly mused out loud, not seeing anything disturbing in my bleak, but honest answer. _

_"And again," Stiles muttered flatly, "Very promising."_

_Growing frustrated, I huffed and crossed my arms as I grumpily grumbled: "Well shit, I don't know, okay? Everything was moving so fast. I mean the adrenaline alone made it kinda hard to think straight."_

_Eyes lighting up, Scott immediately sat up from his seat at Stilinski's desk: "That's it!"_

_"What's it?" I inquired impatiently, rubbing my throbbing temples as I plopped back down on Stiles' bed._

_"Adrenaline!" McCall cried enthusiastically. _

_ "Ugh, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't adrenaline make your heart rate go up?" I asked, brows raised._

_"Which we definitely don't want," Stiles piped up, pointing at his best friend a bit scoldingly._

_"Not necessarily," McCall walked over as he continued to explain. "Lacrosse gets my heart rate up and I still have control."_

_"Are you forgetting where you tried to rip my head off in the locker room?" Stiles exclaimed as he flailed his arms about wildly. _

_"That was one time," Scott waved off his best friend, but as a slightly peeved Stiles shot him a look, the tan teen then admitted: "Okay… maybe not the best example, but, ugh, how about Allison!"_

_Having previously been sniggering at Stilinski's tart expression, my grin soon faded as I groaned with irritation and grouchily reminded the young wolf that I didn't have the magical little cure-all of puppy love in my life. _

_ "No, what I'm saying is, with her my heart rate goes up… like _WAY _up," Scott's mind was clearly traveling to some hot and heavy make-out session, but when I impatiently cleared my throat, he continued: "But I'm so focused on her that I don't have the time, or really the energy, to get mad."_

_ Trying to block out the nauseating image of what those two lovebirds could possibly be doing to tire a werewolf out, I simply shook my head and asked: "So what does any of that have to do with me?"_

_ "You need to tire yourself out," Scott replied simply, and before I could voice how absolutely stupid I thought this sounded, Stilinski spoke up._

_ "Wait, that actually makes sense," he backed his best friend up._

_ "It does?" Scott seemed just as shocked as I did._

_ "Yeah, I mean the number one thing therapists tell you to do when you have anxiety or ADHD is to exercise," Stiles recalled, most likely from his own experience. _

_ "So you want me to start working out cause some shrink said it works?" I crossed my arms and cocked my brow skeptically._

_ "It couldn't hurt, Charlie," Scott said softly, immediately making my defensive disposition soften a bit._

_ Pursing my lips, my thoughts then traveled back to the fact that Derek always did work out to channel his own aggression. Maybe there was something to this whole exercise thing after all. I mean, I could certainly use the extra endorphins… _

_ "Fine," I finally caved before quickly reminding both ecstatic teenagers the likelihood of this plan failing. "But don't get your hopes up." _

So now, here I was, physically run into the ground, yet still suffering through full-blown withdrawal. My brain felt like it was repeatedly being bashed in with a large bat, I couldn't keep any food down, nor had I slept more than four hours since formal, and saying I was irritable was a vast understatement.

Easily making the three-story drop from the top of the tree to the forest floor, I decided that I had done enough training for the evening. Placing my hands on my head, I tried to stretch out the intense cramp in my side while I headed over to the cliff that overlooked Beacon County.

Inhaling the scent of wet earth and pine needles, I fixed my low braid as I peered down at the picturesque scene. Damp streets reflecting the bright traffic lights and stars, everything appeared to be merrily twinkling up at me; and as I watched the distant river churning and lapping against the rocky, moonlit shore, I couldn't help but think how beautiful my home was… well, when it wasn't being a nightmarish deathtrap…

Suddenly hearing the snapping of a few twigs just yards behind me, I spun around, squinting in the darkness.

Heart pounding in my chest, I remained still as I listened, but after a few moments of silence, I turned back around.

Relax, Charlie. You need to get a grip.

Ever since Peter had died, I couldn't shake this unnerving feeling like something was following me. Like an invisible, dense mass looming overhead, I constantly felt as if the air was being sucked right out of the atmosphere, making my hairs stand on end.

I knew if it was severe enough, withdrawal could actually make people hallucinate, as well as sleep deprivation, so that's what I was chalking it all up to.

My body was just adjusting to the lack of drugs in its system and my brain was acting all screwy. Yeah, that was it. There was nothing out here with… _SNAP!_

Heart stopping, I wheeled back around and tried to sound as intimidating as possible as I barked: "Who's out there?"

No response.

Shaking slightly, I tried to concentrate and remain calm. It was probably just a deer or something. I mean, I was in a damn forest for God's sakes!

Suddenly hearing rustling in the bushes just a few feet in front of me, I couldn't deny the fact that whatever was out there, it was certainly watching me. It was intelligent enough to keep its distance, as if stalking its prey, and that fact made me beyond uneasy.

Taking a deep breath, I told myself that, being a werewolf, I was at the top of the food chain, and so after convincing myself that I should just check it out and get to the bottom of this, my phone buzzed.

Fumbling around my black leggings, I fished the cellphone out and answered, eyes still fixated on the now quiet shrubbery: "Yeah?"

"Charlie, you need to get to the hospital," Stiles' earnest voice was panicked.

Furrowing my brows, my mind immediately concluded that Lydia's once stable condition had turned for the worst.

The strawberry blonde had indeed been bitten by an alpha. I saw it happen myself, but when she started going into shock, I knew it had to mean one thing: her body was rejecting the bite and she was going to die.

Then, much to my surprise, Lydia Martin started to recover. She wasn't healing as fast as a werewolf by any means, but the doctors said she was going to pull through.

Needless to say, we were all relieved, but the fact that Beacon Hills' queen bee had been bitten by Peter, didn't turn, but still had a pulse… well it certainly left us with a very unsettling question: what was she?

"What's wrong?" I demanded, hearing his uneven breathing through the phone.

"S-she's gone," he muttered, the boy clearly beside himself.

"Gone?" I repeatedly dumbly. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I was at the hospital and woke up starving, so I went to go get a candy bar, but the stupid vending machine wouldn't work and I accidentally broke it and…" Stilinski blabbered on mindlessly.

"STILES!" I snapped at the hyperactive teenager to focus.

"A-and suddenly she was screaming so… so we ran to see what was wrong and… and she was gone," his voice was tense and thick.

"Weren't her parents with her?" I asked, completely confused as to how the redhead managed to disappear unnoticed by an entire packed hospital.

"Her dad was waiting outside while she showered," he replied with a monotone voice.

Finding this beyond bizarre and slightly unbelievable, I couldn't help but sound a little cynical as I asked: "What the Hell did she do? Climb out the window naked?"

"Um, a-actually, she did," I could hear the pale teen's voice cracking as he added: "Unless someone… or something took her."

Beyond hearing how distraught he was, the point Stilinski made was a valid one. Lydia could have very well been abducted, and even if she wasn't, there was no way she could survive long if she was running around naked. She'd be dead in less than 48 hours from exposure if no one found her.

"Give me ten minutes," I stated evenly, trying to mask how fearful I now was for the girl's life.

And then, hanging up the phone, I ignored the nagging feeling that I was being watched and took off to meet my friends, not noticing a pair of haunting red eyes staring right at me.

* * *

><p>Bursting through the double-doors, my heart was pounding in my chest so hard that I thought it might burst. Eyes darting around urgently, I pushed my way through the crowded hospital corridor, mind racing while I tried to think of any possible explanation for Lydia Martin's disturbing disappearance.<p>

We had zero clue as to what the redhead was, but we were willing to wait and find out. Unfortunately, however, I knew not everyone would be so patient. God forbid the Argents had discovered what happened to Beacon Hills' queen bee...

"Naked? As in nude?" I finally heard Sheriff Stilinski's voice over the deafening noise assaulting my sensitive ears.

"I'm pretty sure they mean the same thing," a familiar female voice sassily responded. "But yes, as far as we know, she left here clothing-optional."

Rushing through the packed nurses' station, I rounded the corner and headed down the hallway towards Lydia's old room whilst Mr. Stilinski double-checked: "All right. You checked the whole hospital, right?"

"Every last corner," I caught a glimpse of the curly haired nurse with dark brown hair and immediately recognized her.

"And nothing was suspicious?"

"Nothing," Melissa McCall recalled, her face just as anxious as the sheriff's. "She just took off."

Unless some crazy hunters abducted her…

Grabbing the walkie-talkie off of his belt, John Stilinski then stated in a serious tone of voice: "Okay, let's get an APB on a 16-year-old redhead," then, turning to face Scott's mom, he asked: "Any other descriptors?"

"She's 5'2" a-and her hair's actually strawberry blonde," Stiles interjected after popping out of nowhere, whilst I persistently shoved my way through the dense and tightly packed hallway.

Pale green eyes examining his panting child, the sheriff inquired with a strained voice: "Is that right?"

"Yeah," the pale boy with blotchy cheeks nodded, flashing a weak grin, but soon he was firmly gripped by Mr. Stilinski and yanked to the side of the hallway.

"What the Hell are you still doing here?" he demanded of his son impatiently.

"Ugh, um… providing moral support?" Stiles offered feebly, trying to laugh off his father's foul mood.

Taking in John's reprimanding gaze, I immediately made the executive decision to hang back and keep hidden. Glancing around, I then spotted Lydia's vacant and dark hospital room.

"How about you provide your ass back home?" he asked scoldingly. "Where you belong."

Nodding in vehement and fearful agreement, the energetic teen blurted out: "I-I can do that."

"Yeah?" Mr. Stilinski raised his brows as he continued to stare down at his son with an intimidating expression.

Staring up at the sheriff's stern face, Stiles merely mumbled his sheepish: "Mhm."

And before his son could say anything else, Sheriff Stilinski forced the dweeby teenager to turn around and shooed him towards the exit.

Back pressed against the side of the door and hidden in the shadows, I heard Stiles grumbling to himself in vexation, but as the unexpecting kid walked past the open doorway, I reached out and yanked him inside.

Yelping in both panic and surprise, Stiles tripped through the yellow 'caution' tape as I clamped my hand around his gaping mouth and pushed him against the wall.

"What the Hell you doing?" he hissed, clearly a bit annoyed at me whilst his heart continued to race.

"Shut up," I growled, trying to ignore my migraine whilst I looked around and made sure no law enforcement officers were watching us entering a closed crime scene.

Then, quietly closing over the door to Lydia Martin's old hospital room, I glanced back at the eccentric teen with wide, caramel eyes.

Completely confused and still a bit startled, Stiles whispered: "W-what are we…"

"Look for her things," I cut him off with my command.

"W-what?" he stuttered, brows furrowed

"Get her clothes… a hairbrush… anything," I repeated irascibly as I started searching the dark room myself, but once I noticed the geeky boy was still staring back at me dumbly, I barked: "_Now_!"

Flailing a bit as he quickly turned, Stiles skidded and darted around the room, opening the linen closet and checking the shelves.

Pulling the drawers out from the bedside table, I also came back empty handed, and feeling thoroughly frustrated, I tucked a few loose strands behind my ear and tried to think.

"W-what are we even looking for?" Stiles finally murmured, shutting the closet whilst I tore apart the bed.

Nothing here, either…

Inhaling deeply, I tried to remain even-tempered, but with my anxiety shooting through the roof, and now my lack of ability at picking up the redhead's scent, well I was beginning to lose my cool…

"Anything she wore. Anything that may have her scent on it," I responded with a somewhat edgy tone of voice.

"Oh, ugh… um… here!" Stiles threw her pillow at me.

Catching it just before it could smack me in the face, I shot the pale boy with short brown hair an annoyed look before taking a whiff.

Frowning, I shook my head: "Nope."

Making a face, Stilinski's pensive expression soon lit up as he bounced off into the bathroom.

"H-how about this?" he asked excitedly, tossing Lydia's dirty hospital gown at me.

Taking it, I closed my eyes and held the thin cloth to my nose, inhaling deeply and concentrating as much as my throbbing brain could.

Come on, Charlie. You can do this. It's just catching a scent. You've done this a million times!

But when I sniffed up nothing but the typical, stale hospital odor, I opened my eyes, let out an aggravated groan, and looked back up at the staring teen, whose face was beyond restless: "I-I can't smell anything."

"What do you mean you can't smell anything?" he demanded a bit tensely, his voice higher than usual.

"Stiles, I can barely make my claws come out, let alone track someone who just washed her scent off in the shower," I snapped defensively.

I wasn't exactly at the top of my game, and for him to expect me to be able to tap into the abilities I had so little control over… especially during my withdrawal… well, it was ridiculous!

Catching his apologetic look, my harsh disposition softened a bit. I wanted to help, I really did, and sensing how truly distraught the kid was, I knew I had to try again.

Sighing, I extended my hand: "Hand it back over."

Gazing at me thankfully, Stiles obediently did so and watched on as I huffed the hospital gown, but when that overwhelming and nauseating scent of sterilizing cleaner and hospital musk wafted up my nose, all I could do was gag.

Swallowing the vomit creeping up my esophagus, I shoved the article of clothing right back into Stilinski's hands and stifled the urge to dry-heave as I avoided his disappointed expression: "I'm sorry. I got nothing."

Feeling beyond guilty, I felt horrible for letting the kid down again.

"Stiles," I tried to reassure the teenager as he continued to silently freak out. "We're gonna find her, okay?"

Glancing back up at me, I could see him struggling to remain positive.

Gingerly reaching out, I gently touched his shoulder and stated as confidently as possible: "Scott's gonna be here any minute. He'll be able to track her."

Forcing a weak smile onto his worried face, Stilinski stiffly nodded as I peeked out the window to double-check that no one had seen us. Then, once I knew that the coast was clear, I turned back to face him.

"Come on. Let's wait for him at the Jeep."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, which was undoubtedly preventing him from speaking, Stiles grabbed her hospital gown and stuffed it under his zip-up sweatshirt.

Following the boy as he slipped out of the room, I closed the door behind us and headed towards the exit.

I hated seeing him this way. It made me uncomfortable.

Examining the large bulge in his sweatshirt, a small and sly smirk soon spread across my face.

Catching my slightly amused expression as we rounded the corner and continued to make our way to the parking lot, Stilinski asked in a low, edgy voice: "What?"

"Nothing," I lied, but once I saw how uneasy the kid appeared, I figured lightening the mood was the least I could do for him.

Opening the doors and stepping into the cool evening air, I then added with a devilish grin: "I just didn't know you were expecting."

Eyes immediately shooting down to the large bump over his stomach, Stiles quickly tried to hide the fact that he was smuggling evidence out of the hospital.

Then, scrambling after me, the dorky teen grumbled: "Shut up," but soon, as small, yet sincere smirk flashed across his face.

* * *

><p>"This is the one she was just wearing?" McCall asked, holding the hospital gown out in front of him as we sat outside the hospital, but when there was no response besides a thick, tense silence, Scott turned to his best friend and promised: "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."<p>

Staring back at the young beta sitting shotgun beside him, Stilinski seemed to appreciate and believe those words, for both boys exchanged somewhat tender looks.

Suddenly remembering that I was silently watching on from the back seat, Stiles quickly cleared his throat and stated with flushed cheeks: "All right, just shove the thing in your face and let's find her."

Unable to help myself, I grinned a bit over how flustered he seemed to get at my witnessing such a sweet moment in their bromance, and as Scott sniffed the thin piece of clothing, the door to the Jeep unexpectedly opened, startling us all.

"Whoa!" Stiles exclaimed as we all jumped, but once Allison Argent slid in the backseat beside me, McCall demanded with an urgent tone of voice: "W-what are you doing here? Someone's gonna see us…"

"I don't care," the lovely brunette pulled off her beanie cap and fixed her loosely curled hair. "She's my best friend, and we need to find her before they do."

Before _they_ do?

Eyeing the girl closely, I could feel my body stiffening up as my anxiety began to spike again. I hadn't seen or spoken to Allison since formal and now that she knew what I was and saw how ready I was to kill Kate, well, saying I was apprehensive was putting it lightly.

"I can find her before the cops can," Scott stated confidently, puffing out his chest a bit whilst I tried to maintain my composure.

"How about before my father does?" Allison responded ominously, making me sweat even more.

Shit. I knew the Argents had to have found out about Lydia!

"He knows?" McCall spun around, as did his gaping best friend.

Her own heart racing, I could hear how anxious Allison truly was over the entire situation.

Voicing dropping, the pretty teenager admitted almost guiltily: "Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

"Search party," Scott glanced around at all three of us, however I understood that Chris and his buddies weren't just looking for our friend out of the goodness of their hearts.

Then, voicing my own dark thoughts, Allison stated forebodingly: "It's more like a hunting party."

And as the two boys' mind wrapped around the sinister meaning of those words, Stiles threw the Jeep into reverse and sped out of the busy parking lot.

"All right, but if she's turning, they wouldn't actually kill her would they?" Stilinski finally blurted out after about ten minutes of stiff silence.

"They won't tell me anything," she responded honestly. "All they say is, 'We'll talk after Kate's funeral… when the others get here'."

Heart practically stopping, I knew this couldn't be good, and once McCall and I exchanged quick and extremely nervous looks, the tan teen timidly inquired: "W-what others?"

"I don't know," she sounded a bit frustrated, "They won't tell me that, either."

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on," Stiles sarcastically stated, before turning to his friend as he continued to stick his head out the window: "Scott, are we going the right way?"

Closing his eyes and sniffing the air some more, Scott frowned and tried to concentrate some more.

Beyond impatient, Stilinski demanded again: "Scott!"

"Hold on!" McCall shot back, trying to focus. "All I can smell right now is sweat."

Catching Stiles' light brown eyes immediately shooting over to my direction, I crossed my arms and sensitively shot back: "It wasn't my idea to make me work out like I'm goddamn Rocky, so if I stink, that's your fault."

Hearing Scott and Stiles snigger a bit, I immediately regretted opening my mouth, for I soon felt Allison's brown eyes fixated on my rigid form. Craning my neck out the window, I merely avoided her gaze and continued to pretend as if I could actually help McCall track Lydia.

"Wait, wait!" Scott thankfully piped up, taking Allison's undivided attention off of me. "Slow down."

Slamming on the breaks and sending all of us flying forward, all three of Stilinski's passengers slammed into various parts of the Jeep, making us all groan in pain.

"S-sorry," the hyperactive teen offered apologetically, but Scott and I were too busy hanging out of the vehicle and smelling the air.

"Do you smell that?" the beta asked me, still rubbing his forehead.

Cheek smarting from hitting the back of the seat, I furrowed my brows as I caught a light trace Lydia's sugary Victoria Secret perfume.

"Y-yeah!" I nodded eagerly. "But I… I can't figure out what direction it's…"

"Take the next right!" Scott exclaimed over me, and although it honestly bothered me that a brand new wolf seemed to have more control than I did, I couldn't help but be grateful.

Lydia needed to be found, and although I was useless and always screwed things up, at least Scott was around to save her.

* * *

><p>Walking through the starlit woods, all four of us remained silent, hoping to hear Lydia or catch her scent without drawing the attention of anyone else who may have also been searching for her.<p>

Scott and Stiles were a couple of feet in front of Allison and I, and as we crunched over the dead leaves and fallen twigs, I stared down at my black and neon blue Nikes, rather than venturing a look at the brunette marching right beside me.

The tension was thick and almost suffocating.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to explain that, regardless of what her family would lead her to believe, I never had the intention of harming her. Maybe she was still just processing the fact that her boyfriend and close friend were both werewolves, her family's sworn enemy…

Biting my nails absentmindedly, I tried to block out everyone's erratic heartbeats. I felt beyond ill, and as I tried to stifle my own shivers, I crossed my slender arms and covered my bare shoulders.

I knew wearing that fitted tank was a bad idea…

Hair suddenly standing on edge, I immediately recognized that sensation of being watched and my chest tightened.

Eyes darting around the shadowy forest, I scanned the immediate area yet still found nothing.

"What is it?" Allison whispered out of nowhere, no doubt seeing my body tense up.

"Ugh, nothing," I muttered, brows furrowed as I continued to check out the various treetops and bushes.

What the Hell was going on?

"You sure? Should I call Scott back here?" she inquired with a low voice.

Unable to mask my irritation at that request, I bit my lip and swallowed my pride. She was right to ask that. I wasn't exactly the most reliable or helpful person…

"N-no," I shook my head, still frowning a bit. "It was probably just a bird or something."

Uncomfortable silence falling over us once again, we all journeyed on, following Scott as he continued to track the strawberry blonde's faint scent.

We were definitely getting closer, and although my senses were clearly weaker than McCall's, I was at least confident that we were heading in the right direction; however, there was also an uneasy knot growing in my stomach with every step we took, for we seemed to be heading towards my old property.

If Lydia was at the Hale house, well… let's just say I understood nothing good could come out of that…

"Um, Charlie?" Allison's timid voice broke the silence and pulled me from my own thoughts.

Oh, God. Here we go…

"I'm… I'm sorry I didn't help look for you," she practically breathed, her voice filled with remorse.

Taken off guard by the brunette's unexpected apology, I finally looked up into her large brown eyes and saw how upset she truly looked.

"M-my dad…"

"Your dad made you go with him," I cut her off as her lip began to quiver slightly. "I know, Scott explained it all…"

Awkward silence befalling us once more, my mind traveled back to the night of formal.

Body in ribbons, I had somehow managed to drag my naked and weakened form to the old hole in the ground that I sought refuge in after the fire. Blood pouring out of me, guts falling out, and hypothermia setting in, my brain was barely working. I was in shock, but more emotional than physical. I had just found out Kate Argent was definitely the arson… the reason my family was dead and the person responsible for my turning into a bloodthirsty beast.

On top of that, I had also discovered that Peter intentionally murdered Laura to become the alpha, but before I could demand answers or even hear an apology out of my charred and broken father, Derek tore his throat open, right in front of me.

I was an orphan once again, but rather than running scared and allowing myself to remain a victim of circumstance, I decided I needed to let everything go.

I decided that hatred and anger would only turn me into Peter, and although I would always be a werewolf, I still had a choice on whether or not I would become a monster.

Then I lit everything on fire, purging myself of my past demons and promising myself that I would move on; and that's when Stiles and Scott showed up.

They had been looking for me for hours, undoubtedly worried that I was bleeding out and dying somewhere in the woods, but once they had found me, naked and sobbing in front of the flames consuming my old life and laying to rest my old self, they helped me.

Those two dorky boys, trudging along ahead of us, they were the only people who searched for me, who stood by my side and made sure that I was okay. And they were the only two individuals who pushed me to keep my word and get clean. They were my friends, but more than that, they were my pack, and from that moment on, I swore to myself that I would protect them the best I could… and that included their loved ones.

"He said he wont hurt you guys, you know," Allison spoke up once again.

Blinking a bit, I glanced at her as she stared back at me with the most serious of expressions.

"You and Scott," she clarified, as if I didn't also know that all ready.

Watching the penitence visibly eating away at her, I knew that she was trying to make me feel better… trying to tell me that regardless of what I was, she didn't think I was some mindless beast that needed to be put down.

"I don't care about that," my voice and expression were much softer.

"Y-you don't?" she seemed a bit stunned and even confused by my response.

Shaking my head 'no', I then inhaled deeply, preparing myself for an uncomfortable moment of sincere confession: "Allison, I… ugh… I'm sorry, okay?"

"Charlie, stop," it was now Allison's turn to see how filled with regret I truly was.

"No," I spoke over her fiercely. "My father was a murdering psychopath, and… and I let him get in my head," I admitted dismally, knowing just how close I was to slaughtering Kate right in front of her.

Reaching out and linking arms with me, the lovely brunette pulled me closer to her and stated gently: "We both made mistakes… and if it makes you feel better, apparently so was my aunt."

Taking in her small, sad, dimpled smirk, I couldn't help but flash my own wry and crooked grin back.

"So… I guess were even, huh?" I asked, brow cocked as we continued to follow Stilinski and McCall.

Chuckling a little, she nodded her head and beamed at me: "Yeah, I'd say so."

Feeling like an immense weight had just been lifted off of my shoulders, I had a bit more pep in my step as we continued to follow Lydia Martin's trail, but the moment we came over the hill and my eyes landed on the charred remains of my home, that pleasant feeling quickly subsided.

"S-she came here? You sure?" Stiles' surprised and shaky words voiced my own feelings of trepidation.

"Yeah, this is where the scent leads," Scott spoke a bit dismally.

"All right, but has Lydia ever been here before?" Allison inquired, clearly trying to remain more logical about the unsettling situation.

"Not with me," I responded as everyone turned to the place's old resident.

"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek," Stilinski ventured a guess, but that response did nothing to ease our minds.

"You mean, looking for an Alpha," McCall corrected his best friend whilst all four of us stood side-by-side, just staring at the creepy and abandoned residence.

"Wolves need a pack, right?" Allison asked, turning to both her boyfriend and I.

"Not all of them," I replied honestly, remembering how close I was to being an Omega quite a number of times.

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?" the brunette pressed, no doubt having learned a few things about werewolves over the course of this extremely hectic weekend.

"Yeah, we're… we're stronger in packs," Scott answered with a nod.

"Like strength in numbers," she muttered to herself as that prickling sensation began to run up the back of my spine again.

"No, like literally stronger, faster, better in every way," McCall continued to divulge the secrets of our kind.

Glancing around, I strained my eyes, feeling beyond restless.

"That the same for an Alpha?" Allison inquired whilst Stiles began poking around a few nearby trees.

"Yeah," I nodded with an even voice, still visibly distracted as I continued to peer around at some unseen force. "That'll make Derek stronger, too."

"Oh! Hey, look at this!" Stiles exclaimed a bit excitedly from where he was crouched down alongside a large maple tree. "You see this? I think it's a tripwire…"

And before any of us could even register what the Hell the eccentric teen was talking about, Stilinski yanked the chord, which caught Scott's ankle, and sent him flying up into the air.

"Stiles?" Scott called from where he was now hanging upside-down from the tree.

"Yeah, buddy," he innocently turned around, only to find McCall steadily becoming redder in the face as he swung from the branch. "O-oh!"

"Next time you see a tripwire, don't trip it," Scott sarcastically retorted as Allison and I broke out into furious giggles.

"Yeah, noted," Stiles spoke as he and Allison rushed over to try to find a way to get the young wolf down.

Hearing the snap of a few twigs, however, Scott and I both froze and I knew for certain this time, the noises I was hearing weren't just in my imagination.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I hissed, scanning the area with wide eyes. "Someone's coming."

"Wait, what? Who's coming?" Stilinski spun around, almost smacking his face against Allison's. "I-is it Lydia?"

Glancing back at Scott to double-check, the beta inhaled deeply, only to gravely shake his head.

"Hide," he whispered as the mysterious guest quickly approached, but when Stiles and Allison merely stared blankly back at us, I rushed forward and ushered them away: "Come on! Go!"

Concealed in the shadows, bodies pressed up against a large tree, Allison, Stiles, and I all peered around the thick trunk at the dark figures approaching the helpless, strung up Scott McCall.

They were three large men clearly holding weapons, and as I listened to Scott's elevated heart rate, I knew that they had to be hunters.

"Scott?" the familiar, gravelly voice of Allison's father rang out.

"Mr. Argent," McCall responded as we all watched the deadly hunter's face become illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"How are you doing?" his blue eyes examined the inverted and swinging beta, his voice pleasant enough.

Hearing Allison shift beside me, Scott then stated as casually and light-hearted as possible: "Good… you know, just hanging around."

Biting my cheek in an effort not to chuckle at his witty remark, a small grin tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched on.

"I-is this one of yours? It's, ugh, it's good," Scott continued on, as if this were a friendly conversation. "Nice design. Very constricting."

Giggling despite myself, I received a swift elbow to the ribs by both Allison and Stiles, who clearly didn't find this situation as entertaining as I did.

Frowning, I glared at them both whilst Mr. Argent demanded: "What are you doing out here, Scott?"

"Looking for my friend," he responded simply, tan face now almost purple.

"Ah, that's right," Chris nodded as he mused out loud. "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique… is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it?" his voice dropped to a threatening and harsh tone. "Like, perhaps, part of your pack?"

"Actually," McCall spoke up a bit more boldly, his chocolate brown eyes staring right back into Mr. Argent's dark blue ones. "Clique sounds about right to me."

"I hope so, because I know she's a friend of Allison's," he circled the tied up werewolf. "And two special circumstances, such as yourself and Charlie… two I can handle, but not three."

Immediately feeling a wave of anger shoot through me, I balled my fists. He was acting like he was doing us some sort of favor by _letting _us live. Maybe we were doing _him_ the favor! I mean, we could easily rip him apart if we wanted to… well, at least I could…

"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" his expressionless face and even voice was eerie to say the least.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," McCall muttered back.

"It's a medical term for amputating somebody at the waist…cutting them in half," he explained, making me quake with anger.

I had seen something like that before; a few days before the incident, actually…

Laura's boyfriend at the time, Juan Carlos, was murdered that exact same way by one of the most deadly and brutal hunters we had ever come across: a man named Gerard.

"Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that," Chris continued to threaten the young beta, whilst I was busy trying my hardest not to freak out and attack Allison's father and his bumbling hunting party. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

And with that, Chris and his buddies turned and stalked away, leaving us alone once again.

Silently fuming, I lagged behind and watched on as Stiles and Allison rushed over to the still dangling Scott.

"You okay?" a concerned Allison Argent asked whilst Stilinski ran over to the tree and began examining the complex knots suspending his friend upside-down in the air.

"It was just another life-threatening conversation with your dad," McCall tried to sound less shaken than he truly felt, but hearing his racing pulse, I knew that he was lying.

"Wanna help me with this?" Stiles called over to the brunette, his fingers tangled up in the giant mass of thick rope.

Idly watching the tan teenager cutting himself free and falling to the ground with a smug smile, my body vibrated with the rage bubbling up within me as my mind replayed the day I had found Laura a hysterical mess on our bathroom floor.

Juan Carlos and my cousin had been dating for about two years. They were the perfect mates, so to speak. She was the rational and logical alpha, and he, a hotheaded but playful beta. He was a genuinely good guy and he truly loved my cousin. Even Derek liked him! And when he told us he was going to propose, we were thrilled, but then, once he had gone missing, we all knew something had gone wrong.

We were such a tight-knit group back then, Derek, Laura, Juan, and I, and no matter if we were fighting or not, no one would just disappear like that… especially when the word on the street was that the infamous hunter Gerard was running around Manhattan, looking for a small pack of werewolves led by a female alpha.

So when we got the call to go to the city morgue and claim his mutilated body, it felt as if the world was crumbling down around us. He had become part of the family, and yet again, a band of ruthless hunters had murdered one of our own.

Needless to say, after burying the innocent beta in the traditional werewolf style, I couldn't take watching Laura sobbing anymore. I went out, got drunk, and wandered off, unable to handle yet another death in my life, especially around the anniversary of the Hale fire.

The second night of that drunken and drugged up bender was the night of the incident… the night that I had taken my first life and spiraled into the dark hole that I was still struggling to climb my way out of…

"You coming?" McCall asked, brows raised as he snapped me out of my furious thoughts.

Finally realizing that all three of my companions were waiting for me to follow them up to the charred remains of my home, I cleared my throat and tried to appear as impassive as possible.

"Ugh, yeah," I nodded, crossing my arms as the wind picked up a bit.

Climbing the creaky steps, I followed everyone inside the ash-encrusted remains of my childhood home. Hair immediately standing on end, I felt an icy sweat sweep over me.

"Lydia?" I heard Allison call as Scott sniffed around.

"Lydia, are you in here?" Stiles also began poking around, however, soon, everyone's yelps for the redhead began to fade away until they were nothing but distant, garbled voices.

I was alone.

I was standing in the living room, which was still riddled with bullet holes and torn apart from the last time I had stepped foot in the place. Walking around the squeaky floorboards, I paced about and traced my fingers along the fireplace's dusty and ash covered mantle.

Then, the air became dense; the atmosphere grew so thick and heavy that it felt like I was breathing through a straw. Cold shivers running up my spine, I saw a dark shadow out of the corner of my eyes, causing me to spin around.

Nothing.

Breathing uneven, I tried to collect myself.

"Calm down. Your brain's just playing tricks on you," I whispered to myself, but as my friends' faraway calls morphed into an alien voice, goose bumps rose all over my skin.

_Charrrlotteeee. _

It sounded strangled and scratchy, causing me to freeze right where I stood and my mouth to go dry.

"Relax… you're just…"

_Charlotteee. _

Looking around wildly, I opened my mouth to call out to my friends, however, the moment my wide, anxious eyes landed on the oddly spotless windowsill across the room, my words got caught in my throat.

An odd, pale light seemed to be coming from it, and as I tentatively inched closer and closer, it appeared as if a gray, swirling fog was seeping in through the crack underneath the glass.

_Charlotte. _

The voice sounded stronger and more inviting, and as I drifted forward, head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed, my slightly shaking hand reached out and gently touched the glass.

It was freezing and damp from condensation.

Straining my eyes, I looked through the window, but could only see the thick, haunting veil of mist.

_Charlotte, come…_

The voice was a bit stronger now, and as its memorizing words echoed in my fuzzy brain, I felt myself involuntarily opening the window.

Cold, clammy breeze rushing into the room, my hair blew back as I stared out into the mist. Soon, however, my eye caught something moving in the rotted and long-since-dead window box just below me.

Aunt Talia used to grow the most beautiful flowers in those planters, but obviously since the fire, nothing ever grew in that barren soil… that was, up until now…

Furrowing my brows, I unblinkingly watched as a small green bud emerged from the spoilt dirt, and within mere moments, that little green leaflet bloomed into a large, healthy purple flower.

Wolfsbane.

Thoroughly hypnotized by what I was experiencing, I knew that I shouldn't try to touch the poisonous plant, but I couldn't help myself.

I felt as if I were in a trance, and as the lovely lilac flower began to glow, those beckoning whispers became louder and more forceful.

_Charlotte. Come._

Gingerly reaching out, my hand hovered over the plant, only to feel my skin prickling.

_Charlotte, come to me._

Trembling, my heart was racing and my mind was spinning, and just as my fingertips plucked the flower out of the soil, every single one of those vibrant, violet petals began oozing with sickly black goo.

Eyes widening, I grimaced in disgust as the plant liquidized and melted into a puddle of thick, sticky goop which could only be compared to rotten oil.

Gagging, I then heard the voice again, but this time, it was much more intimidating.

_Come to me!_

The shouting assaulted my sensitive eardrums, making me wince and clamp my eyes shut.

_COME TO ME! _

The voice continued to scream as it became more beastlike, and just as I felt my overwhelmed brain shutting down, I opened my hazy eyes and saw the horrifying sight of five pairs of glowing red eyes.

My heart stopped.

My blood ran cold.

An intense shutter went through my entire stiff body.

Immobilized by fear, my eyes nearly popped out of my face as I watched five large, monstrous figures slowly advancing towards the window.

"G-guys," my terrified voice was stuck in my throat. "Guys," I rasped again, but the animalistic snarls howling at me drowned out my warning.

_COME TO ME!_

Taking in their towering silhouettes and beady, blood red eyes, I knew I had to warn the others, and as I stumbled back a step or two, fully prepared to get my friends and flee, I tripped right into Stiles.

"Charlie?" he asked, brows furrowed and face completely confused.

"S-Stiles!" my voice was breathless and urgent as I stared up at the now nervous teen. "We need to…"

"Are you okay?" Stilinski seemed completely puzzled as he stared down at my trembling body.

Shaking violently, I could sense something was off.

Wheeling around, I looked behind me, expecting to see the mysterious and eerie fog and five approaching monsters, but there was nothing there.

Blinking, I immediately felt sick, and as Stiles' anxious voice asked me for a second time if I was okay, all I could do was stammer: "Y-yeah… I'm… I'm fine."

What was happening to me? I felt like I was going crazy…

"Are you sure?" he inquired, caramel eyes still fixated on my sheet white face.

"Mhm," I nodded, voice distant. "I, um, I just need some air."

Suddenly seeing Scott and Allison standing in the corner and watching the entire strange exchange, I felt my face grow hot.

Rushing past them, I avoided everyone's intense stairs as I practically fell out of my house.

"What's wrong with her?" Scott whispered as I dizzily made my way down the porch steps, trying to keep myself from hyperventilating.

"She looked like she saw a ghost," Allison noted in a low voice.

What _had _I seen? What had I been hearing? What the Hell was going on with me? This just had to be really bad withdrawal… right?

Shaking, I paced about, inhaling deeply as I tried to calm myself down.

"Maybe it was too soon to take her here," Stiles ventured a guess as to why I was freaking out.

Maybe that was it…

Maybe on top of quitting my drugs cold turkey, coming back to the Hale house right after such a traumatic experience was setting me off. That had to be it. I was just seeing things. Nothing was really there.

Exhaling, I sighed, feeling myself calming down quite a bit, but just as I went to tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear, I noticed that my long, slender fingers were coated in that strange and sickening black liquid.

Horrified eyes widening, I furiously wiped the fluid onto my pants just as Allison, Scott, and Stiles all filed out of the house. Eyeing me with concern, I forced a convincing smirk onto my face as I reassured them: "Guys, I'm fine. Let's just find Lydia."

And after a brief pause, all three of my teenage companions seemed to buy it as they headed back towards the Jeep, talking amongst themselves over where the redhead could be, all the while completely unaware that I was slowly losing my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**"HOLY HALE" you guys are amazing! 8 reviews in 1 Chapter?! And 26 favorites/39 follows?! AND 2 PMs! AHHH! Im freaking out (in a good way)! **

**SPECIAL THANKS TO: _resinswhy, Sierra Weasley, lenie954, XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, High Serpent King, __hinataonicha, Thrashingzayn, Bscovie, & xxxanniexx_ (you guys are the best! :D)**

**So, m_any of you said that this FanFiction Series is your favorite from all of the Teen Wolf FFs?! Even with an OC?!_ That made my life to hear cause a lot of OC FF are kinda hit or miss and often mess with the canon or make characters act differently, soooo thank you all for sharing this AMAZING news with me! Reassures me that Charlie actually fits in the TW universe and isn't just some crummy mary sue (which i've been super worried about)!**

**also, for people saying how dark charlie's life/storyline has been, YES IT HAS! and I totally get if its a bit overwhelming and depressing at times (I myself struggle to write certain scenes, let alone read them!) but never fear! she WILL get better _(though she'll always be a surly Hale :D)_ **

**in terms of charlie's hallucinations/nightmares/visions/hauntings (whatever y'all wanna call it), she's gonna get SOME answers within the next 5 or so chapters (a certain vet always seems to have the answers shes looking for) **

**the whole *STARLIE* thing, yeah, dont worry, itll happen. this season is a slow progression from _friendship to "its complicated"_ and the next few updates will have a TONNNN of charlie/stiles moments! I all ready have so much planned for them (all the way up to 3b!) soooo be patient, cause im trying to make it as natural/realistic for BOTH characters as possible! **

**This chapter was inspired by the song "_ARSONIST'S LULLABY" by_ HOZIER (im working on the 8tracks soon, and it will probably be posted by chapter 5 and updated obviously with every new chapter, so keep your eyes peeled)**

**This chapter is LONGGGGGGG and FYI the _large blocks of_ _italix_ are memories/flashbacks**

**OK, done rambling! JUST READ, FOLLOW, FAVORITE, REVIEW, and ENJOYYYYY my darlings! xoxo **

**TWO: ARSONIST'S LULLABY**

"She ate the _what_?" an aghast Scott repeated, his chocolate brown eyes wide as we all headed up the packed walkway towards Beacon Hills High School.

Gagging, I swallowed the chunks rising in my throat: "The liver." Grimacing, Scott made a disgusted face whilst Stiles shook his head

and tried to make the situation sound much lighter than it really was: "No, I didn't say she ate it. I just said it was missing."

Merely exchanging a look with McCall, both the young beta and I then stared back at the eccentric teen trying his absolute hardest to seem casual.

"A-and you know what? Even if she did, so what?" his voice was high, brows raised as he tripped up the steps a bit, still trying to convince us that Lydia wasn't some crazed monster. "It's the most nutritious part of the body."

Fumbling around my black skinny jeans, I yanked out a tums to wash the vomit taste out of my tart mouth and settle my stomach as I muttered: "Well I never ate anyone's liver."

"Yeah, right, cause when it comes to werewolves, you're a real model of self-control," Stiles retorted sarcastically, making me glare at him sourly as Scott broke into loud sniggers.

"Oh, like you should talk," I snapped at McCall, crossing my arms as we entered the school

"Actually, wait!" Stilinski's caramel eyes lit up. "Hold on! You're the test case for this, so we should be going over what happened to you."

Blinking a bit and completely lost, Scott glanced at me for assistance, but migraine too painful to even think let alone figure out whatever thoughts were swirling around Stiles' head, I merely shrugged lazily.

God, my head hurt.

"What do you mean?" the tan teen asked as we rounded the corner.

"I mean, like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know? What were you drawn to?" Stilinski asked excitedly, tugging at his backpack straps whilst we stopped off at McCall's locker.

Pausing to think, a dopey grin spread across the baby wolf's face, and when he gushed his response, my stomach churned even more.

"Allison."

Rolling his eyes and sighing in loud, over-exaggerated exasperation, Stiles groaned: "Okay, nothing else? _Seriously_?"

"Nothing else mattered," he shrugged swapping out his books for the day.

Taking in the lanky kid banging his forehead against the lockers a bit loudly, I winced with pain, trying to block out the chaotic noise of my peers and Stilinski's obnoxiously dramatic scene.

I had yet another sleepless night, especially after what happened back at my old place. I decided to keep it to myself, considering everyone had enough on their plates, but every time I shut my eyes or had a moment of peace, I would see those horrifying visions and hear those haunting voices.

"Wait, but that… that can be a good thing, right?" Scott suddenly stated, face bright and voice upbeat. "Cause the night that Lydia was bit, she was with you."

Still trying to ignore everything going on around me, I immediately felt a twinge of anger, but with the full moon coming up and my body literally on strike from the lack of drugs, well an erratic temperament was definitely to be expected.

"Yeah, but she was looking for Jackson," Stiles glumly pointed out, pale face decorated with a deep pout.

Feeling somewhat sorry for the dork, I knew he had literally spent his entire weekend at the hospital, but just as I was about to try to offer him some comforting words, something caught my attention.

Cinnamon and dirt.

The scent was strong… pungent, but there was something else mixed in with it.

Fear.

Mouth still slightly opened, I looked around the crowded hallway, Scott and Stiles' faraway voices barely even making it over the deafening thumps of someone's anxious heartbeats.

"I… I'll see you guys in class," I heard myself mumble as I ignored their slightly irritated calls and turned to clack my way down the hall.

There was something about that scent.

Cinnamon was common enough. Everyone carried gum on them at this school… everyone besides me, ironically enough. No. It wasn't that sweet, artificial spice that intrigued me. It wasn't even the fear. I mean, I had smelt that a million times by now.

It was the dirt. It wasn't the musty odor of dried earth. It was woodsier aroma… like freshly overturned soil… like death.

Drifting down the hallway, I half expected to bump into Lydia since she was apparently the one digging around Beacon County's local cemetery, but when I walked right into the hunched over frame of Isaac Lahey, I was certainly surprised.

Books and papers flying everywhere, the two of us merely stared at one another with somewhat startled expressions as the tall boy's school supplies continued to shower down around us.

"C-Charlie," he stuttered edgily, his still slightly bruised blue eyes wide.

Catching my own breath, I couldn't help but blush furiously. We always seemed to be running right into each other, but the moment I began blurting out my apology and helped gather his things, I noticed the timid kid's hands.

Mud. There was mud underneath his nails.

"We really need to stop meeting this way," the boy with wavy light brown hair joked, however my once smirking face was now frozen in a perplexed expression.

"Y-you okay?" he asked a bit awkwardly, undoubtedly unnerved that I was just kneeling on the floor opposite him, staring.

"Ugh, yeah," I shook my head, tucking some raven hair back behind my ear as I organized some more of his papers before handing them back to him. "Sorry, I'm a little… a little distracted today."

"Yeah," Isaac nodded in agreement as we both stood up. "Tell me about it."

Observing his exhausted face, I figured it couldn't hurt to fish around a bit. I mean, it was his scent that I had been drawn to, and there had to be a reason for it… unless I was going completely crazy, which at this point was probably more likely than not…

But still, I wasn't ready to admit that to myself. Not yet.

"Long night?" I asked with a knowing and crooked grin.

"Yeah, I worked all night at the cemetery," he responded, turning back to his open locker and closing it.

Watching him twist the lock to make sure it was secure, I heard his heart rate escalate slightly the moment he said the word 'cemetery'.

He had to have seen _something_ if he was this spooked…

"Ah, graveyard shift," I wittily remarked, only making the usually quiet teenager shoot me a look.

"Punny," he remarked dryly, though I could see a small flicker of a smile flash across his dimpled cheeks.

"I thought so," I responded, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible whilst I continued to dig. "At least those bags cover your black eye…"

Immediately regretting those words the moment they left my lips, I grew hot as I saw Isaac's body go stiff.

Shit! Real smooth, Charlie. Make a joke about the kid's bruises… you know, the ones his lovely father gave him…

Staring at the silent boy with wide eyes, my heart raced in panic.

Christ, could I be more socially inept?

"I-Isaac," I blurted out with a weak voice, "I'm _so _sorry."

Baby blues gazing down at my painfully awkward and extremely apologetic face as we slowly began our journey down the hall, Lahey's clenched jaw loosened as he waved me off: "Don't worry, I know you didn't mean it that way."

Still feeling absolutely awful, I pathetically attempted to apologize more: "No, that was… that was bad…"

"Yeah, it kinda was," he sighed glumly, but once he saw how helpless I looked, his somewhat hurt façade dropped as a wicked smirk spread across his lips: "But at least I have a reason for looking like crap."

Blinking, I didn't quite follow right away, but as the chuckling teen pointed at the trophy case along the wall, I caught the reflection of the most disheveled, ghostly, and exhausted looking girl. Gaunt with a sickly complexion and large, drooping bags, I suddenly broke out into concurring giggles.

Isaac was right. I looked like a straight up crazy person.

Nodding, I chuckled: "Guess I deserve that."

"What's your excuse?" he asked, nervously allowing a couple of big, meathead seniors on the lacrosse team to cut him off.

Glaring at the stupid, lard-ass jocks, I responded drolly: "Haven't been sleeping well."

Taking in my dark face, Isaac's voice sounded as if he could relate: "Yeah, well I'll probably be hopping on that wagon after the night I had…"

Stare of ill will now broken, I blinked a bit, looked away from the seniors, and stared up at the grave teen as the bell sounded for classes.

Trying not to wince due to the shrill ringing in my ears, I asked in a hushed and somewhat urgent voice: "W-what do you mean? What happened at the cemetery last night?"

This was it! I knew he had to have seen something!

Growing visibly uncomfortable, Lahey avoided my intent gaze while his pulse quickened: "Ah, ugh, it… it was nothing…"

Pursing my lips I knew I had no time to beat around the bush before English, let alone the patience, so I put my hands on my hips and scolded him a bit: "If you're gonna lie, at least be good at it."

Eyes widening, Isaac tried to sound innocent: "I wasn't lying," but once he saw that there was no way in Hell that I was buying his bullshit, the teen added: "Seriously, it was nothing. The machine just fell on me and a, ugh, a grave got robbed or something."

Listening to his uneven heartbeat, I knew that he was hiding something.

Cocking a brow, I pressed: "So you didn't see anything?"

Eyes darting around shiftily, Lahey cleared his throat and spoke with a rushed tone of voice: "No, and I, ugh, I… I gotta get to History class. I-I'll see you later."

Completely brushing me off, Isaac Lahey then darted off down the quickly emptying hall, leaving me to stare after him, now thoroughly convinced that he was lying.

I had been around long enough to know that nothing was ever a coincidence, especially in Beacon Hills, and if Isaac Lahey was this freaked out, it wasn't over a simple grave robbery or machine malfunction. The tall teenager had _definitely_ seen something or someone out there last night… maybe he had even seen Lydia.

Frustrated, head pounding, and feeling beyond faint, I let out an annoyed growl and sourly turned to head back to class, making a mental note to find him again. I wasn't going to drop it that easily.

And as I clacked my way down the currently desolate hallway, I tugged at my red leather peplum, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse for being late to English yet again.

Completely distracted and mind elsewhere, I was then entirely caught off guard as a large, shadowy figure came out of nowhere and yanked me into an empty classroom.

Open mouth and startled yelps being muffled by his giant, beefy hands, my wide eyes met Derek's mischievously twinkling green ones.

Surprised and anxious expression melting into a thoroughly irritated one, I shoved my big lug of an older cousin off of me, still trying to slow down my racing heart.

"Jesus, Derek!" I growled angrily, taking in his highly amused expression. "What are you doing here? You know what? Nevermind… I'm gonna be late to class," I tried to walk past him towards the exit.

"You mean the classes you don't even like going to? Or studying for?" he asked, and I could hear the small smile on his stubbly face.

Frowning, I turned around and confessed my real reasoning for suddenly attempting to be a good student: "Stiles thinks I should try more. You know, get in touch with my human side."

Snorting loudly, as if that was the most hilarious thing he had heard all day, I merely crossed my arms indignantly and sarcastically nipped: "And oh, how nice of you to swing by. I'm good by the way… no need to worry about me… I mean, I didn't just see my dad's throat get slashed open or anything."

"Don't tell me you're sad about that," Derek raised his brows.

"No," I admitted before sourly adding, "but it would've be nice if you showed _some_ concern."

"Okay, I'm sorry I killed your psychopathic dad," he sighed in exasperation. "We good now?"

Taking in his highly sardonic expression, I retorted sharply with the fakest of smiles: "Gosh, I just feel so much closer to you…"

I could tell he was trying not to grin, the way he always did when we had a good bout of banter, but soon he grabbed my arm and led me towards the door, wrongly assuming that I was just going to follow him to God knows where.

"Can you just tell me one thing?" I stubbornly pulled away, putting my hands on my hips.

Annoyed, my older cousin groaned: "What now?"

Feeling a bit uncomfortable as I stared up at the new alpha, I hadn't seen the guy since formal and I knew I needed to voice the nagging concern that had been bothering me since that night.

"The reason why you killed him… it was cause he murdered Laura, right?" I inquired with a soft voice, eyes locked onto his. "It wasn't for… for the power or anything? Cause that would make you…"

"Just like Peter," Derek cut me off with an even voice. Pausing awkwardly, I didn't quite know how to respond, but he soon continued defensively: "I became the alpha because I killed the werewolf responsible for my sister's death"

Staring at his impassive face, I tried to listen for any irregularities in his heartbeat, but there was nothing. Still, knowing quite well how easily an alpha could lie undetected, I doubtfully accepted his words as the truth and nodded slowly.

Opening the door, he ushered me outside and after a brief moment of silence, I asked: "So where are we going?"

Staring ahead seriously as we walked along, Derek then uttered words I never thought I'd hear escape his mouth: "I need your help."

Stunned, I raised my brows and repeated in confusion as the two of us turned a corner: "My help?"

"Yeah," he responded rigidly.

"With what?" I inquired, but rather than responding, Derek shoved me into the boys' bathroom without warning, and before I could scold him, I heard the sound of someone's panicked breathing in the furthest stall.

Furrowing my brows, I gave my cousin a thoroughly perplexed look, but Derek merely walked forward and tapped on the door.

"Just give me a second, okay?" I heard the most unexpectedly strained of voices, causing my heart to stop.

Jackson Whittemore? What the Hell?

Shooting Derek a very cross look, I knew my older cousin must have done something bad.

Rapping on the door harder this time, the haughty teenager's anxious tone of voice became an angered one as he flushed the toilet and unlocked the stall, aggressively barking: "I said give me a fricken second!"

Blue eyes immediately widening, whatever rude remark he was going to say next got caught in his throat: "D-Derek…"

"You're looking a little pale there, Jackson," my cousin spoke coolly, however there was a hint of mockery in his voice. "You feeling okay?"

Eyes darting between my companion's emotionless face and my own puzzled one, Jackson tried to cover up how truly sick he looked: "Never better."

Giving us both a dirty look as he pushed his way through us, I could sense just how anxious the teenager was, and as I watched him closely whilst he washed his hands at the sink, Derek stated authoritatively: "If something's wrong, I need to know. You're with me now."

Guffawing loudly, Whittemore spun around with raised brows: "Wait… _me_? With you?" he laughed jeeringly. "What am I, your little pet?"

Eyes narrowing, I looked between the defiant and boastful boy to my stormy cousin.

"Oh God, Derek," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as a new wave a nausea swept over me. "You didn't…"

"I mean, just because you gave me 'the Bite' doesn't mean I'm part of your little wolf pack," Jackson ignored me as he verified my horrified thoughts.

Eyes widening, I could only stare up at my stupid relative with the most furious and incredulous of gazes.

Really, Derek? _Really?_

"Sorry, but to be honest, you don't exactly show outstanding leadership qualities," he unwisely insulted my older cousin.

"Is that so?" Derek's voice was dangerous.

"Look, I've got my own agenda. Which doesn't involve running around the woods at night, howling at the moon with you two and McCall, okay?" he arrogantly got into Derek's face, as a thick, black liquid slowly began oozing from his ear. "So why don't you just back the f…"

Immediately turning the idiotic teen forward, I made Jackson look at his reflection and the second his stormy blue eyes landed on the disgusting discharge, his face became sheet white.

"W-what is it? What's happening?" he stammered, eyes wide and voice trembling.

"His body's fighting the bite," I murmured, thoughts traveling to the disturbing hallucination I had the night before.

The wolfsbane… it liquidized into something exactly like that…

Completely unnerved, I glanced at my cousin who seemed equally disturbed.

"Why?" Whittemore now turned to me pleadingly.

"I don't know," my older cousin touched the black liquid and examined it.

There was no way this could be a coincidence…

I had heard about people's bodies resisting the bite, but I had never actually seen it happen. I never knew what the signs were or what it looked like, so how did that bizarre fluid seep into my delusions?

"What does it mean?" he asked, desperate for answers.

Biting my lip, I felt a bit faint, knowing that this could not be a good sign by any means, and as my shocked and completely confounded older cousin wordlessly retreated from the bathroom, Whittemore demanded angrily: "Derek! What does it mean?"

Understanding that if his body _was _rejecting the bite, Jackson Whittemore was probably going to die shortly. Gazing at the rightly panicked kid, I couldn't bring myself to explain what was happening to him.

Heart breaking a bit as the blonde teenager now turned to me, his quaking voice dropped pathetically: "C-Charlie?"

Opening my mouth, I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind.

"I… I'm sorry, I gotta go," I shook my head, actually feeling sorry for the co-captain, and as I quickly left the bathroom to go scream at my beyond reckless cousin, I heard Jackson's furious yells: "Don't you walk away from me!"

Rushing down the hallway, anxiety through the roof, I promptly caught up to Derek as he slipped through the side door of the school.

"You bit him?" I shouted heatedly whilst I jogged to catch up to him.

"You know we're stronger in packs," he muttered, his mind clearly a bit distraught.

"Don't you mean _you're_ stronger?" I shot back, darting in front of him so that he had to stop walking away.

"_No_," he corrected me irascibly. "I mean _we._ Me, you, and Scott."

Shielding my eyes from the blinding sun as a warm breeze swept across the side parking lot, I continued to give him a highly unconvinced look.

"Look, if the Argents want revenge because of Kate…"

"They won't," I cut him off sourly. "Laura's killer's dead, and so is the arson," I voiced the same words I had been telling myself for days on end. "They know that. It's over."

"You don't _really_ believe that, do you?" he retorted doubtfully.

"And you don't really believe you're ready to be an alpha, do you?" I shot back, unwilling to let him justify turning some innocent teenager on the off chance a war might break out.

He was being careless and he needed to hear it!

Glaring down at me, Derek simply clenched his teeth and pressed on, continuing to make his way towards the woods.

Emitting a very vexed grunt, I trotted after him and called: "Listen, I get you're worried. I am too, but you can't go biting half the town to build up an army just in case…"

Spinning around to face me, my older cousin shot back bitingly: "Actually, I can."

Taken aback slightly, I could suddenly see a bit of my father in him. All those new powers, all that strength, they were slowly changing him…

"Fine," I glowered up at him in disapproval, "Maybe you can. And maybe there's nothing I can do to stop you, but I certainly don't have to agree with it."

Turning on my heel, I furiously trudged back towards Beacon Hills High School whilst my older cousin barked after me: "Where are you going?"

"To class!" I snapped over my shoulder.

"Don't you mean to your new pack leader and his little lap dog?" he snarled scornfully.

Blood boiling, I quickly turned to face my vain cousin and defended the two dorks: "No, I mean I'm going to meet up with my friends Scott and Stiles."

Then, storming back off towards the building, I felt the need to further put Derek in his place, so I quickly added with the most piercing of glares and spat: "Oh, who by the way are actually trying to help me get clean, rather than just standing back and judging me!"

Seeing his volatile expression morph into one of slight remorse, Derek just stood there, dumbly staring back at my incensed form, and now completely satisfied that I had shut the idiot up, I spun back around and stomped off, leaving the alpha in the dust behind me.

* * *

><p>Having chain smoked about half my pack cigarettes within 30 minutes, I tried to keep my wits about me.<p>

The full moon was just around the corner and I couldn't rely on drugs to keep my anxiety in check. I needed to be strong and remain in control. I needed to focus.

But how could I concentrate when I was slowly losing my marbles? Let alone finding out that Derek had bitten one of my schoolmates, who was now most likely going to die; and not to mention the fact that Lydia was missing and probably some crazed, bloodthirsty animal, no thanks to my now actually deceased father.

God, my life was in shambles…

Shaking hands holding the bogie to my taught lips, my lungs hungrily inhaled every last bit of nicotine and tobacco out of the sucker, but once I heard the bell ring, I decided that hiding out behind the school and driving myself even more insane wasn't going to do me any good.

Putting the cig out, I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my mind and shake everything off, and as I stepped back into the chaotic building, I concentrated on my steps.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

"Nice dress."

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

"Nice camera," Allison Argent's voice quickly interrupted my count.

Looking up, I scanned the packed corridor and caught sight of the beautiful brunette smiling at a boy, whom I only knew as Greenberg's friend Matt.

He was a quiet kid with light brown hair and dull blue eyes. Seemed nice enough. Never really caused problems, though he was a bit odd, for he was always hiding behind some bulky camera.

"Not her sister, her aunt," I then heard a couple of freshmen gossiping loudly. "The one who murdered all those people."

Watching Allison's body tense up, I saw her orb-like brown eyes glancing around whilst the stupid teenagers continued to talk about Kate.

"You mean the crazy bitch that burnt down the Hale house _and_ killed all those people?" her friend corrected the heavy set blonde who had started the conversation.

Hearing my friend's heart beginning to race, I saw that she was slowly growing upset as she yanked out the black dress from her locker.

Kate Argent's funeral was this afternoon, and as if burying a family member wasn't hard enough, having half the school talking about it had to be torture.

Sure Kate deserved to die, but Allison also deserved to grieve in peace.

"Yeah, the fire… all those animal attacks… it was her aunt," the blonde continued, as both girls blatantly stared at Allison as she slammed her locker shut.

"Are you kidding? I sit next to her in English."

"Find a new seat," the girl sniggered, whilst Allison's eyes began to well up.

Temper flaring, I took a few steps forward, intending on putting those insensitive assholes in their place, but then the painfully skinny friend said something that made me stop.

"Wait, isn't her best friend a Hale? You know, that girl Charlie?"

Mouth going dry, I immediately grew hot. Was the whole school talking about me, too?

Deciding to ignore the two girls and make sure that my friend was okay, I pushed my way through the crowd, eyes fixated on the brunette now walking off with her head down.

Just as I was a mere five feet away, however, I saw a familiar tan hand pull the undoubtedly crying teenager into a vacant classroom.

"H-how'd you know?" she sniffled from behind the currently shut door.

"I could hear your heartbeat," McCall replied sympathetically. "What is it?"

"I-I… I can't… I can't do this," her trembling voice cracked. "I can't go to the funeral."

Pausing from where I stood, about twelve feet away from the door, my heart sank hearing Allison break down into loud cries.

"Everyone's going to be watching me, and there are going to be cameras there, and… and I can't…" her voice trailed off as she sobbed heavily.

I felt horrible. Allison and I were cool, but there was still some tension between us, so I didn't even try to bring up her aunt's funeral. Now I wish I had…

"Yes, you can," Scott's voice was soft and comforting, "Allison, you'll be fine. Everything's gonna be okay."

Hearing her slowly calming down, McCall then tried to reassure her some more: "We're gonna find Lydia, and it's all gonna be good. Just think about it… no Peter… no psycho werewolf killings."

Stomach knotting, I immediately thought about the high possibility of a new alpha problem on the rise…

"Your dad and me, well that's a work in progress," I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I can't go and be like this," she sniffled a bit, substantially more composed than before.

"Aren't you supposed to cry at funerals?"

"For her?" she spat bitterly, making me feel even worse for the girl.

She knew what Kate did. She knew what she was, but still, Allison was close to her for most of her life. This couldn't be easy…

"It doesn't matter," Scott cooed a bit, "You could be crying for you, you know? You lost someone."

Biting my lip, I swallowed the guilty lump growing in my throat.

I should have been there for her. Screw the awkwardness. She needed the support.

"Maybe Kate wasn't totally who you thought she was, but you still lost her," he voiced the truth.

"Y-yeah," Allison's words were low and somber.

"You'll be fine. I'll make sure," McCall stated soothingly. "I'll be there."

"What?" I heard the alarm in the brunette's voice, no doubt due to the fact that she and Scott were supposed to be broken up.

"I'll figure it out," he spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "Okay, maybe not right next to you, but I'll be there."

"Okay," I heard the small smile in her voice, and after the two secret lovers kissed, Scott whispered: "You first."

And as I saw the puffy-eyed brunette discreetly slip out of the classroom, I waited for Scott to make his appearance.

Within about three minutes, the young beta soon exited and as he turned to head off to his next class, I darted over to him.

"Scott," I grabbed his arm, making him face me.

"Charlie, where've you been?" he asked, brows furrowed. "You just took off… you know you missed like three classes. Stiles is pissed."

Waving the tan teenager off, I absentmindedly stated: "He'll get over it, but I'm coming with you…"

"What? Coming where?" he asked, completely confused as to what I was talking about.

"To the funeral," I explained, running my hand through my wavy hair.

"Really? You think that's a good idea?" he inquired feebly. "I-I mean, after what she did to your family, you might, ugh, you might get… emotional."

Appreciating that McCall understood how hard this entire situation was for me, as well, I was all ready too determined to be swayed by his words, no matter how valid they were.

"I know and I don't care," I shrugged. "I'm not going to pay respects to the arson that murdered my family. I'm going to be there for a friend that needs me."

Looking at me with a pleasantly surprised expression, Scott's chocolate brown eyes glimmered a bit as a wide, dimpled grin spread across his face.

Feeling my cheeks growing hot due to the odd look he was giving me, I cleared my throat and stated a bit gruffly: "Quit looking at me like that. It's not like I'm out rescuing stray puppies or anything."

Laughing, Scott nodded and replied sincerely: "No, but that's… that's really nice of you, Charlie."

Making a disgusted face to hide the small smile trying to break my usually deadpan façade, I grumbled: "Yeah, yeah… whatever…"

But as the young werewolf continued to gaze at me as if I were some precious little thing, I quickly changed the subject: "So… how are we getting there? Stilinski?"

"Actually, I don't know," he shook his head, seeming slightly uncertain.

"What do you mean? Stiles actually has something better to do?" I inquired, brow cocked and tone of voice one of amusement.

"Mr. Harris gave him detention," McCall told of an incident that I had clearly missed in today's chemistry class.

Somewhat mad that I missed a most lightly hilarious squabble between the notoriously irritable teacher and the gawky teen, I sighed and shook my head with a disappointed pout: "Figures."

* * *

><p>Beacon County cemetery was a free-for-all to say the least. Reporters, news stations, cameras, and photographers were all swarming outside the small procession of black cars pulling up the densely packed dirt road.<p>

From our spot within the shadowy trees on the outskirts of the forest, Scott and I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Argent stoically filed out of the vehicle.

"Mrs. Argent, can we get a few words? Just a few words!" one pretty, platinum blonde reporter shouted, shoving a microphone into the redheaded woman's stern face.

"A few words, Mrs. Argent!" another man with a goatee yelled over her, shoving his way to the front of the crowd only being held back by a thin piece of caution tape.

"Hold it, hold it," Sheriff Stilinski fought them off as Allison soon appeared from the car and joined her parents whilst they walked up to Kate's burial plot.

She looked like an absolute mess.

"That's it! I knew this was a bad idea," Mrs. Argent hissed through clenched teeth as she glared at the chaotic crowd still snapping pictures and screaming at them.

"Well, it wasn't my idea. I tried telling him," Chris Argent stated as Scott and I quickly darted closer, hiding behind the closest tombstone. "But he insisted on making a point of it."

He? Who were they talking about?

Feelings of dread slowly making my queasy stomach even worse, I watched on as Allison's parents continued to argue.

"Well, if he insisted, then he can deal with this when he gets here," Victoria Argent growled, allowing her somewhat confused daughter to pass.

"When who gets here?" the brunette's voice was low, her brows furrowed.

"Just sit down, sweetheart," the woman with sharp cheekbones and short, fiery red hair stated calmly, patting her anxious daughters soft, curly locks.

Making a face, she plopped down into a chair obediently, her sad brown eyes suddenly spotting both Scott and I watching on from several of yards away.

Grimly smiling at her loyal boyfriend, her red eyes then landed on me.

She seemed a bit surprised that I showed up, but after a moment where we just stared at one another, I gave her a curt, yet supportive nod.

Returning the gesture somewhat gratefully, I felt a bit better. Maybe my being here would help put the past behind us. The family feud was over. Allison and I weren't going to be forced to take sides anymore. Right?

"This looks expensive," an unknown and raspy male's voice sounded over the frenzied shouts of the press.

"Yeah, 900 bucks," Matt's response surprised me.

Glancing at Scott, whose caring gaze was still fixated on his girlfriend, I knew that he hadn't heard our classmate speak. Straining my eyes, I scanned the crowd.

"And how expensive is this?" the elderly male asked, his tone slightly intimidating, and as I heard the sound of plastic snapping, I spotted a very angry Matt Daehler glowering up at an older man with thinning white hair, who was tossing something onto the ground.

Eyes swiftly moving from the annoyed teen examining the broken memory card from his digital camera to the mysterious man heading towards the Argents, I suddenly caught a sickeningly familiar scent.

No… it… it can't be…

"Christopher," the older man with beady brown eyes greeted Allison's father with a stiff hug.

That smell. I had smelt it before.

Heart racing as I watched the two men part and the older man kiss Victoria's cheek, my body grew rigid whilst a cold sweat formed on my brow.

"Are you okay?" Scott suddenly whispered.

Nodding, I faintly breathed that I was just tired, but then, as my heart continued to thump wildly, my eyes almost popped out of my face the moment I remembered where that haunting scent was from.

"Gerard," Mrs. Argent stated the very name that brought trepidation to every werewolf I had ever come across.

_Gerard? _

Clamping my own hand around my mouth, I tried to stifle my gasp of shock as the most feared hunter who had ever lived offered his condolences: "I'm so sorry."

_GERARD!_

Mind spinning, I thought I could throw up right then and there as images of the incident flashed across my mind.

Juan Carlos' mutilated corpse.

Laura hysterically crying on the kitchen floor.

Derek's furious howls of anguish.

Getting drunk.

Losing control and shifting.

Catching _that_ scent.

Killing _that_ man… that hunter…

"Yo," Stiles popped up out of nowhere, making me nearly jump right out of my skin. "Who the Hell is that?" he asked, completely oblivious to my trembling and ghostly pale form crouched behind McCall.

Jus then, Allison's parents and Gerard suddenly looked right where we were all hiding, making the two boys fall back and take me with them as Scott panted anxiously: "He's definitely an Argent."

Gerard? An Argent? No… maybe a friend, but not actually an Argent… I would have heard about that…

"Do you remember me?" the old man pleasantly beamed down at the lost brunette seated beside her mother. "Considering I haven't seen you since you were three, I don't suppose you'd call me grandpa."

My stomach plummeted.

Jesus Christ! The most ruthless of hunter… Juan's killer… the person responsible for the deaths of so many werewolves… a fricken Argent?

I gagged.

"So if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being," he gazed down at Allison with the kindest of faces, making me that much more ill. "But I'd prefer grandpa."

I gagged again.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Stiles touched my bare shoulder.

Feeling my chest tighten, I couldn't tear my eyes off the balding man with white hair.

Gerard was Allison's grandpa.

This couldn't be happening!

"She's just tired," McCall distractedly replied on my speechless self's behalf.

Not thinking much deeper about my odd behavior, Stilinski then ventured hopefully: "Hey, you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral… I mean, what if they're the non-hunting side of the family?"

Breathing becoming highly erratic, I knew I needed to get away before I had a panic attack.

"There could be non-hunting Argents," Stilinski's faint voice sounded so distant to my ears. "It's possible, right?"

"I know what they are," McCall's voice was deeper and much more ominous. "They're reinforcements."

Shaking hands slowly pushing myself up, I could barely see straight as hot flashes now wreaked havoc on my overwhelmed senses.

"Where are you going?" Stiles hissed, flailing a bit as he tried to grab me.

"It's… it's the withdrawal," I could feel myself growing green. "I'm… I'm gonna get sick."

"Ugh," he grimaced, immediately jerking back and crashing into McCall. "Do it over there. And don't let anyone see you!"

Ignoring Stilinski's useless remark, I quickly retreated into the tree line and hid behind a large cedar.

Gripping the trunk for support, I held my long raven hair back with my other hand and spilled my entire stomach's contents into the grass.

Wiping my mouth, I tried to calm down, but my mind immediately went to that dreadful afternoon a year and a half ago.

_"Laura, what is it? What's wrong?" Derek's concerned voice was forceful as he tried to get through to my hysterical older cousin._

_Simply letting out more deafening wails of heartbreak, I stared at the usually strong female alpha and glanced back at my worried companion._

_Something awful had to have happened._

_Glancing around, I realized that our apartment in the Upper East Side was missing one extra tenant. _

_"Laura," I tentatively spoke up, feeling my stomach knotting. "Where's Juan?"_

_Tearful and puffy green eyes slowly drifting to her modest moonstone engagement ring, she then broke down in even louder, woeful cries._

_"Charlie," Derek turned to me, his heart racing, for he also knew what this had to mean for our alpha's soul mate. "Go to your room."_

_"What? No way!" I argued defiantly, but once Laura collapsed to the tile floor in grief, knocking her cup of tea off the counter, I nodded my head and slowly withdrew._

_Obediently leaving the kitchen, I went to my bedroom and shut the door, however my older cousin's heart wrenching moans continued to bounce around my brain._

_"Laura, you need to tell me what happened to him," Derek's voice was calm, however I could hear the fear and panic behind his words._

_Juan had been with us for a while now. He was part of the pack, and part of the family. If something had happened to him, especially tonight… on the anniversary of the fire… _

_No. No, everything was going to be fine. _

_"He… he's at the morgue… I-I c-can't go… I can't claim the body," Laura choked on her tears._

_"Laura," my older cousin's deep voice was a bit gruffer as he tried to make her focus. "What happened to him?"_

_And after a few moments of hearing her sniffle and weep, suddenly a deep, animalistic and enraged roar shook the entire apartment as Laura spoke the name that would forever haunt my dreams. _

_"GERARD!" _

"You three are unbelievable!" a furious Mr. Stilinski suddenly grabbed my elbow. "Pick up my tie," he barked at his blotchy cheeked son scoldingly.

"G-got it," Stiles stammered, grabbing the thing from the ground, brushing it off, and handing it back to his stern father. "Sorry. I know I'm supposed to ask."

Merely glowering at the two sheepish boys and my own frowning face, John Stilinski then dragged all of us over to his squad car and demanded impatiently: "Just… just get in…"

Sliding into the back, I was squashed between both teenagers, who merely stared at me with concern, clearly nervous that I may vomit on them both.

_Hemicorporectomy. That was the word they used. _

_Blankly staring at his mangled and torn apart body, that phrase sounded too tame… so cold and scientific…_

_Derek had told me that I didn't need to come, but I knew that Juan was his friend, too. He needed someone there with him, even if he'd never admit it. _

_Watching him talk to the mortician and police officers, I sat in the corner, unblinkingly observing the two assistants covering my pack-mate's corpse back up and pushing him into the refrigerator. _

_Gerard. The hunter I had heard so much about. The merciless werewolf killer that didn't just waste our kind, but tortured us and left us in pieces for our loved ones to find._

_Gerard. He was the one responsible for killing the one person we had grown close with and let in since the arson._

_I sat in my room the rest of that evening, listening to Laura's inconsolable snivels and Derek's angry and vengeful plans. _

_Draining my third handle of bourbon, my closed my bleary, tearful eyes. _

_Why would they have killed Juan? He was innocent. He had never taken a life. His eyes were yellow for Christ's sake! _

_But then again, I had witnessed harmless wolves being murdered by hunters before. They didn't care. Hell, they even took the lives of humans and children the night of the fire._

_The fire._

_Eyes closed, I heard the screams of my relatives. I smelt the suffocating smoke and felt the burning flames. _

_Aunt Talia had just bitten me. Cora had just helped me escape our burning home. She was going after them… those hunters who were responsible. She told me to shift… to stop being afraid. She told me to get angry instead._

_I did. I turned and ran off. I survived, leaving her to avenge our family alone… leaving her to face certain death by herself…_

_Balling up my fists, my mournful tears turned into enraged ones. _

_Blindly grabbing my flask, I clumsily stood and stumbled into the hallway, remaining quiet so that my cousins wouldn't detect me._

_I creeped into the living room, keeping an eye on Derek's pacing shadow and Laura's hunched over form. _

_I sniffed the piece of cloth they had found at the crime scene… the one thing linking Gerard to Juan's murder._

_I inhaled deeply and took it in. _

_I had it._

_Taking a large swig of the burning liquid, I snuck out of our apartment. _

_I knew hunters were never content with just killing a lone beta. Gerard and his hunting party had to be after an alpha… after my cousin…_

_I needed to kill them before they could hurt Laura or Derek. No, I _wanted_ to kill them._

_Slowly losing control as I stepped out onto the desolate street, I looked up at the blurry image of the full moon. _

_I let it all go. All my sense of right and wrong went out the window. I pushed aside my humanity, for what I had to do wasn't human. I had to be the animal I was to protect those I cared for. I needed to embrace the beast within me to avenge Juan, and as I allowed myself to shift in that dank and dark alleyway, I felt that primal urge to kill take over. _

_Gerard needed to die. All those hunters involved needed to die. All hunters, everywhere, needed to die. Anyone who got in my way needed to die. _

_I blacked out._

_When I came to, I was trailing Gerard's very pungent and strong scent._

_He was close._

_I licked my chops, moving silently and with ease throughout the dense and shadowy trees._

_I smelt food._

_I spotted a fire._

_I moved closer._

_It was him._

_Black and white vision taking in the upper middle aged man, I circled the campsite, not able to think past my desire to kill, and before I knew it, I was tearing that screaming man apart. I felt his flesh between my teeth and the sweet, irony taste of blood. I clawed apart at his chest and stomach until his insides spilled outside. I indulged myself and enjoyed every second of the kill. _

_And then I trotted off, feeling content and satisfied that I had brutally murdered the man responsible for so much death and destruction. But that only lasted until the next day, when I woke up in the bathtub, my naked body caked with mud and blood. I quickly showered and went to tell my cousins the good news… to tell them that I had wasted Juan's murderer, but when I stepped into the kitchen, I was met with the horrific truth._

_The man I killed was indeed a hunter, but he wasn't Gerard. _

_It was some guy named Jim Elkins._

_He was an old friend of Gerard's and had somehow gotten a hold of his hunting jacket. _

_I had killed the wrong person… slaughtered a man who was guiltless for the crime I had sought blood for…_

_He left behind a wife, three children, and a two-month-old grandson, and I left behind my innocence. _

"I didn't copy that," the sheriff spoke into his radio as my world continued to crash around me. "Did you say 4-1-5 Adam? Disturbance in a car?"

I could hear Scott and Stiles' heartbeats quickening as they listened to the police scanner, however all I could do was focus on not getting sick or passing out.

"They were taking a heart attack victim," the grainy voice on the scanner stated. "Dead on arrival, but when they were on the way to the hospital something hit them… well, hit the ambulance."

Jerking a bit with excitement, Stiles clumsily kicked my ankle, making me snap out of my thoughts because of the pain.

"Copy that," the sheriff repeated as I now rubbed my leg, body still covered in cold sweat.

"I-I'm standing in front of it right now," the voice sounded both dumbfounded and unnerved. "Something got in the back… there's, ugh, there's blood everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

Glancing at one another with wide eyes, the two boys obviously thought this could be a lead on the still missing queen bee, and even my curiosity was peaked enough to get my mind off of my panic attack.

"All right, Unit 4, what's your 20?" I could hear Mr. Stilinski's own anxious voice.

"Route 5," he responded, only to say in complete horror: "I swear, I've never seen anything like this."

"All right, take it easy," he tried to ease the officer whilst Scott slipped out of the car and Stiles dragged me out with him.

Quickly making our escape, I heard Stiles' dad state calmly: "I'm on my way," and then, clearly going to address us, he sternly added: "Now, as for you three…"

But his words soon trailed off, no doubt realizing that we had crept off, leaving him alone in his squad car.

* * *

><p>Squatting behind a thin shield of bushes, Stiles, Scott, and I all peered out at the ambulance surrounded by at least three police cars. The doors to the back were wide open, revealing a dead body that was torn apart so badly that it didn't even look human anymore.<p>

The gory scene was enough to make anyone sick, let alone the smell of the victim's blood and guts, however, with my current state of mind and withdrawal, it took all I had to yack up even more bile than I already had that evening.

My mind was still spinning and body in shock over the fact that Gerard was Allison's grandfather, but considering the fact that arguably the most feared hunter in the United States was now in Beacon Hills, ready to help the Argents track down the still missing redhead, I knew I had to get a grip.

Trying my hardest to seem calm and composed, I dug my nails deep into the earth as I concentrated on keeping my heartbeat steady.

Scott and Stiles had too much to worry about. They were even kind enough to help me get through my withdrawal, but if I was keeping simple hallucinations from them, there was no way in Hell that I'd reveal that the largest skeleton in my proverbial closet had just set foot in our town.

No. I was just going to have to handle all of this myself.

"What the Hell is Lydia doing?" Stiles' wide caramel eyes were horrified, expression one of utter sickness.

"I don't know," Scott mumbled back, equally as shocked by the gruesome scene.

"What kept you from doing that?" Stilinski turned to his best friend for answers. "Was it Allison?"

Pausing to think, I could tell McCall was beyond confused as to what prevented him from turning into such a bloodthirsty monster.

"I hope so," he breathed, mouth still slightly open.

"D-do you guys need to get closer?" the pale boy with blotchy cheeks stammered, eyes darting between his two werewolf friends.

Inhaling deeply, I tried to catch Lydia Martin's scent through the disgusting carnage, however when only the odor of rancid bodily fluids wafted up my nostrils, my cheeks filled back up with vomit.

Silently throwing up to the side, Stiles looked as if he may get sick, too, but he just stated with a strained and thick voice: "Well I guess that's her answer…"

"I, um, I think I got it," Scott said tentatively, saving the day yet again, and as the tan teenager turned to me, he asked with a concerned expression: "Do you think you'll be all right to come along? Or do you need to rest?"

Spitting the rotten and acidic taste out of my mouth, I wiped the clammy sweat from my brow and responded with determination: "I'm coming."

"Charlie, if you're too sick…"

"I said I'm coming, Scott," I cut the young beta off fiercely. "I just… I just need to get away from the body and I'll be good," I added, but as McCall raised his brows at me, I knew I needed to reassure him some more. "I'll be fine once we get away from here. I promise."

Examining my firm face, Scott then nodded, accepting my oath, and as the two of us slowly started to crawl away, Stiles suddenly grabbed his best friend's arm.

"Just… I just need you to find her," his voice cracked, light brown eyes steady and piercing.

I could hear the anxiousness in his voice and saw the desperation behind his usually jovial gaze, and in that moment, I realized just how precious Lydia Martin was to him.

"All right?" the visibly upset teenager now turned to look at me, as well. "Please, just… just find her."

My heart ached, and I couldn't tell why. Maybe it was because I felt for the kid, or maybe I was just also worried about my friend, but either way, as I stared back at Stiles' distraught face, all I could feel was an immense pain in my chest.

"We will," Scott spoke for the both of us, his voice and face one of sheer determination, and after we both gave Stilinski curt and reassuring nods, McCall and I took off into the darkness of the forest.

Sprinting in and out of the dense trees, I followed closely behind Scott's lead, trying to catch Lydia's scent myself, but I could only detect faint whiffs of it from time to time.

God, my abilities were all over the place… I couldn't even efficiently track someone…

Darting through the shrubbery and leaping over fallen logs, I was trying to tell myself to focus on the task at hand, rather than the fact that my entire life seemed to be falling apart.

Inhale. _Keep up with Scott_. Exhale. _Concentrate on her scent_. Inhale. _Find her_. Exhale. _Save her_. Inhale. _Save her for Stiles_. Exhale. _Focus._

Pausing for a brief moment, McCall closed his eyes to hone in more and track her more accurately, but the second we stopped moving, I felt it again… that crushing and overwhelming sense of heaviness…

The air was thick and almost electrified, and as my hairs quickly stood on end, I grew nervous.

Please, not now. Please, don't make me hallucinate _now_!

Struggling to breathe as if I were sucking oxygen into my aching lungs through a straw, I then heard the snap of a few twigs.

Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to remain calm.

There's nothing here, Charlie. You're just hearing things. You're just… _crack!_

"Did you hear that?" Scott whispered in slight alarm.

Eyes popping open, I didn't quite know whether to be happy that I wasn't going crazy this time, or to be completely terrified that something was, indeed, out here with us.

Trembling, I nodded as the two of us stared into the darkness, eyes peeled and ears strained.

Silence.

Oppressive and eerie sensation only growing stronger, I then cautiously uttered: "We should keep moving."

Still looking around, McCall soon nodded in uneasy agreement, but the moment we took a step forward a tall and gangly man with severe five o'clock shadow and missing teeth popped out from the bushes.

"You're not Lydia," Scott stated the obvious as the two of us watched the stinking homeless man with shaggy and thinning brown hair bear his fangs.

Heart pounding, I watched as his cloudy brown eyes soon glowed yellow, and before McCall could even get another word out, I protectively leapt forward, intercepting the attack meant for my friend.

Claws out, I slashed at the lone werewolf's arm, slicing it clean open, but before I could deliver my second blow, I felt him kick me hard in the ribs.

Falling to the ground, I heard Scott shout: "Wait!"

Vision now in black and white, I felt rage flood over me. Taking in the mysterious wolf now attacking McCall, I quickly jumped to my feet and launched myself right into the omega, easily tackling him to the ground.

Rolling over on top of me, I felt his claws scrape my collarbone, but the adrenaline from the approaching full moon was so intense that I barely felt more than a dull stinging sensation.

How stupid was this guy? An omega taking on two other werewolves alone? He had to know this wasn't going to end well.

Knocking him right off me, I grabbed the homeless wolf and rocketed him right into a nearby tree, cracking its truck with the sheer strength of the blow.

Yellow eyes wide in shock, Scott merely stared down at me as I got up and brushed myself off.

Fangs gnashing as I panted a bit, I slowly approached the barely stirring werewolf, intense gaze a predatory one.

"C-Charlie, let's go," Scott was breathing heavily as well. "Let's go find Lydia."

Ignoring my somewhat worried friend, I wanted to teach this idiotic omega a lesson. It's not like I wanted to kill him, but he needed to learn to pick wiser battles… and fast…

"Just give me a minute," my voice was deep and animalistic.

"Charlie," Scott's voice was more earnest, but before I could even take another step closer to the weakened werewolf lying on the ground, a blinding flashbulb went off.

Jumping back and covering my searing eyes, I then heard the fast approaching sounds of heavy footsteps.

Hunters.

Stumbling backwards blindly, I flailed about, feeling for McCall, only to bump right into the firm and muscular chest of my older cousin.

"Derek!" I heard Scott's protesting yelps as my own body was dragged beside his a few meters away.

Suddenly being shushed, both the beta and I immediately shut up the second we heard Chris and Gerard's loud shouts.

"Wait, stop!" Scott struggled against Derek's iron grip. "What are you doing?" I could hear the alarm in his voice as he saw the group of four hunters now surrounding the pathetic and frightened creature. "We can help him."

"They're all ready here," Derek's voice was low and grave.

"I can help him," Scott repeatedly himself, trying to wiggle free, only to be slammed harder against the massive evergreen we were concealed behind.

"Quiet," I hissed, understanding just how correct Derek's judgment was in this given situation.

Chocolate eyes darting to me with a disapproving and somewhat appalled look, I could tell Scott thought I was being beyond callous, but if only he understood who we would be up against.

Two hunters we could handle no problem, and Chris would certainly be a challenge, but Gerard? The three of us had no shot against those four, heavily armed hunters if that white haired bastard was with him.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Chris Argent's voice was just as cold as his icy blue eyes.

"N-nothing," the omega stammered, his heartbeat racing. "Nothing, I swear!"

"You're not from here, are you?" Allison's father asked harshly, his shotgun aimed right at the werewolf's perspiring face. "Are you?" his angry voice echoed throughout the forest.

"No," the wolf practically yelped. "No, I came… I came looking for the Alpha," his voice trembled in complete terror.

Eyes darting over to Derek's impassive face, I couldn't help but feel for the omega now. He knew he was weak on his own. Sure, he shouldn't have attacked Scott and I, but had he gotten his way, he'd probably be a member of my cousin's pack by now. He would have been an ally.

"I heard he was here," he continued, his wide, furtive eyes darting between the barrels pointed at him at point blank range. "That's all."

Silently motioning to the two unknown humans, Gerard's beady dark brown, almost black eyes twinkled whilst his two companions suddenly strung the werewolf up.

"Wait! Stop!" his petrified voice was shrill as his body was quickly hoisted up into the air by his hands. "Look, I didn't do anything! I didn't hurt anyone!"

Listening to his panicked, yet steady heartbeat, I knew that the poor guy was telling the truth, but I also understood that these hunters wouldn't care.

"N-no one living," he continued to plead for his life, wincing in pain as the two hunters yanked the rope tighter so that it dug into his wrists and drew blood. "He wasn't alive in the ambulance! H-he wasn't, I swear!"

Grandly turning to his three fellow hunters, Gerard then majestically gestured to the now weeping wolf hanging helplessly behind him: "Gentlemen! Take a look at a rare sight!" Pitiless and almost soulless eyes then landing on a somewhat stiff Chris Argent, Allison's grandpa asked genially: "You wanna tell them what we've caught?"

"An Omega," Mr. Argent's voice was heavy, and I could have almost sworn I saw a look of disapproval behind his eyes.

"The lone wolf!" Gerard almost sang, "Possibly kicked out of his own pack, or the survivor of a pack that was hunted down… maybe even murdered… and possibly alone by his own choice," his eyes glimmered in wicked delight as a wide, demented sneer spread across his wrinkled face. "Certainly not a wise choice, because as I'm about to demonstrate, an Omega rarely survives on his own…"

Stomach dropping, I felt physically ill the moment I saw Gerard pull a large, extremely sharp, and intimidatingly clean sword from the sheath on his belt.

Holding it up to the now pathetically weeping werewolf just dangling there, I had visions of Juan Carlos' mauled remains and immediately had to shut my eyes.

Scott must have had the same reaction, for soon Derek jerked us both violently and demanded in a harsh voice: "Look! Look at them!"

Eyes welling up with burning and enraged tears whilst Gerard now held the deadly weapon high above his head, it took all I had to keep from loudly gasping the second my wide eyes took in the sight of the old man slicing that poor omega into two pieces.

Sickening sounds of his legs falling to the ground, only to be followed by the wet and sloshing noise of his insides spilling out, I felt my body grow rigid.

"You see what they do?" Derek whispered into both McCall and my own traumatized forms. "This is why you need me… why we all need each other…"

Words echoing in my humming ears, I couldn't tell whether I wanted to puke for the third time this evening or break free and take my chances against the psychotic old man grinning proudly at the mangled corpse still twitching from where it hung.

"The only way to fight them is together," my older cousin voiced the grim truth, and as I slowly looked up at his blazing green eyes, I could tell he was also thinking about our fallen friend.

"What are they doing?" McCall's voice was choked and revolted. "Declaring war," I responded forebodingly as my mind began

wrapping around the fact that Derek had been right.

The battle between our families was not over, and now… now it just turned into an all-out war.

"We have a code," Chris' voice was furious, eyes somewhat disturbed.

"Not when they murder my daughter," Gerard turned to face his apparent child icily. "No code. Not anymore."

Then, looking at the rest of his equally speechless companions, the homicidal hunter's voice shook with fury and vengeance: "From now on, these _things_ are just bodies waiting to be cut in half," his black eyes darted back to his clearly opposing son. "Are you listening? Because I don't care if they're wounded and weak, or seemingly harmless and begging for their life, promising that they'll _never_ hurt anyone…or if they're some desperate, lost soul with no idea what they're getting into… we find them. We kill them. WE KILL THEM ALL!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter! **

**This week and next week are the start of my mid-terms sooo i'll be super stressed out and cramming until the middle of next week, and sadly, ****_this will push back the next update_**** :( **

**anyways, yippeee ****5 reviews**** last chapter! you guys make writing this stuff so much more worthwhile, so thanks again for the support! **

**special shout out to those commenters/PMers: ****_high serpent king, lenie954, hinataonicha, wolflihood, thebeezekneeze, sierra weasley, and resinswhy _**

**Also, I altered this episode of a bit in terms of chronological order. the main plot points are still there, but i needed to switch things around to make more sense for my interpretation. **

**This chapter was inspired by ****David Condos' "Like Wolves"**** and i had a TON of fun writing it! Got some creepy content, some good ol' fashioned badass/sassy charlie moments, and an ADORABLE STARLIE MOMENT x3 (oh, and ending on a kinda-sorta cliffy) Anyway, hope y'all like it!**

**I only own my OC! SOOOO READ AWAY MY DARLINGS, and review/follow/fav if its worthy!**

**THREE: LIKE WOLVES**

I was running. Racing, actually. My lungs ached as I gasped for air, but there was no time to catch my breath. No time to stop. Not time to even look behind me.

I heard their deep, blood chilling howls quickly gaining on me, and so, pushing my tired legs to the limit, I pressed forward. I could barely see clearly as I sprinted through the pitch black woods. The moon and stars were shrouded by the dense, black storm clouds, and as the skies opened up and the icy raindrops began to drench my petrified form, my vision became that much worse.

My bare feet were frozen, and I was quickly losing traction as the mud became slicker and slicker. I needed to keep moving. I needed to get away, but as a glaring bolt of lightening flashed across the dark sky, I was temporarily blinded.

I slipped and stumbled over a fallen tree. I tumbled down a steep incline, my numb body smashing against various bushes and plants. Rolling at a dizzying speed, my head slammed against a rock, and as I lay there, face in a murky puddle, I felt all strength leave my body.

This was it. This was the end. They were going to find me.

Monstrous snarls now a few yards away, I lifted my weak body up enough to see five pairs of burning red eyes staring at me. Terrified, I was frozen in my spot, defenseless as I saw those massive, shadowy figures immerging from the dense mist.

No. No, I wasn't going to give up this easily!

Jumping up, I ignored the numerous cuts and fractured bones now covering my frail form.

_Come. _

The wind whispered into my ringing ears.

_Come!_

The voices were growing louder as I fled.

Using all of my might, I leapt up, clinging to a steep, rocky wall-face. Hoisting my smarting body up, I climbed and climbed, too frightened to look down. I could hear my pursuers' racing hearts… they sounded like ominous drums of war counting down the minutes until they caught me and took my life.

Making it to the top of the cliff, I scraped my knees, pushed myself up, and sightlessly continued to dash away.

_Stop running!_

The screams were deafening now.

_We're coming for you!_

Barely able to breathe, I suddenly saw a clearing through the dense trees. I could hear those monstrous beasts with bright red eyes just on my heels, and as my legs slowly began to give way, I spotted it.

My salvation.

A massive, dead tree stump stood right in the middle of the clearing, with no plants or ferns growing around it.

It was odd how drawn to it I felt, as if I instinctively knew it would offer me protection, and without even thinking about it, I used every last ounce of energy I had to race over there.

_We're coming!_

Dashing over, I finally reached the remnants of what had to be the largest oak I had ever laid my eyes on.

Exhausted and beyond desperate, I felt myself lunge forward, diving into the small hole at the base of its thick roots.

I fell. I tumbled down and down for what seemed like hours, and once I landed on the firm, cold ground of some unknown and shadowy location, everything went silent.

I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. Completely confused, I at least felt as if I were safe, but that brief moment of solace was quickly squashed the minute I suddenly got my bearings.

I was at school. But how did I get here? And why did the place seem so different?

Eerie red exit signs setting the entire desolate hallway aglow, I heard the distant echoes of a lone clock ticking away.

_Tick. Tick._

Slowly rising from my spot on the ground, I looked above me, half expecting to see a vast network of convoluted tree roots, however, nothing but shadowy tiles were there.

Something wasn't right.

_Tick. Tick._

Spinning around, I realized that there were no doors or windows, just a limitless line of lockers extending as far as the eye could see.

_Tick. Tick._

Wrapping my arms around myself, I walked forward, praying my eyes were merely playing tricks on me, but as my casual stroll turned to a jog, and jog transitioned into a run, I realized that I was trapped.

_Tick! Tick!_

Clock getting louder and louder, I tried to tell myself that this had to be a dream. There was no way this could be real, yet as I continued to sprint down the haunting corridor shrouded in the creepiest blood-red lighting, my wide eyes finally noticed a strange, glowing purple flower growing out of the floor.

_Tick! _

I stopped in my tracks and my blood ran cold.

_Tick! _

I didn't want to go closer. I swear I didn't, so why was my body involuntarily moving forward?

_Tick! Tick!_

I tried to stop, but as if some invisible force was propelling me forward, I now found myself standing right above the mystical looking plant.

_Tick! Tick!_

Squatting down, my trembling fingers hovered over its lavender petals, and as the familiar burning sensation rushed over the skin on my hands, I knew that it was wolfsbane.

"Don't be afraid," a deep, unfamiliar voice came out of nowhere, causing me to stand right back up.

Wheeling around, I was met with the silhouette of a man who was motionlessly watching on from a few feet behind me.

"W-who are you?" I barked aggressively, trying to mask how truly scared I was.

_Tick!_

He took a slow, predatory step forward.

_Tick!_

He took another step whilst I stumbled back.

I could barely breathe now. Full blown anxiety attack sweeping over me, I looked around wildly and still found now way out.

_Tick!_

Another step.

_Tick!_

And another one.

Dizzy and suffocating for air, I fell, tumbling back onto the floor.

_Tick!_

He was much closer now.

_TICK!_

I began coughing and sputtering, choking on something that was caught in my collapsing throat. Then, spitting up a thick, disgusting black substance, my watery and horrified eyes took in the slick, poisonous discharge filling up my hands.

_TICK! _

I looked up in sheer alarm as the dark figure continued to move forward, and as I gagged and spat up more and more of the gross, oily fluid, I unexpectedly saw something wriggling in my hands.

_TICK!_

Odd lump, about the size of a pencil eraser crawling out of the black goo, I was beyond surprised to see a small bug move onto my pointer finger, only to glow bright yellow and fly away.

A firefly?

_TICK!_

A cane suddenly slammed down right before me, startling me and making me realize that the ominous noise had not been from a clock after all.

Man crouching down as I tried to crab-crawl backwards, he cocked his head to the side, his facial features too blurry to make out.

"I told you I'd find you," his words were threatening, as his eyes glowed that piercing red hue.

Unable to stifle my cries of terror, I turned to take off, only to feel a searing pain in my ankle as the figure's massive, sharp claws gripped my leg and yanked me back.

"No!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, nails digging into the tile floor. "Someone help me!"

"No one can hear you, Charlie," his voice was slowly morphing into an animalistic snarl. "No one can save you now… or your friends…"

"Help!" tears were rolling down my cheeks. "Please, somebody!" but as the unknown beast dragged me further and further into the shadowy abyss, I let out one last high-pitched, blood curtailing scream of desperation: "HELP ME!"

* * *

><p>Still drenched in cold and clammy sweat, I sat trembling on the Stilinski's porch, unblinking as I packed my fresh container of cigarettes.<p>

One hour of sleep. That's all I could fricken get before being tortured by such horrendous nightmares. I felt sick and exhausted, and it took all of my will power to keep from running off into town and breaking into the first pharmacy I could find.

Staring up at the almost full moon, my heart grew heavy with dread.

How in God's name was I going to get through this without my pills, especially with everything that had been going on?

Biting my lip, I fumbled clumsily with the plastic wrap until my shaking fingers plucked out the bogie. Lighting the sucker, I took a long, deep inhale, welcoming that familiar burning sensation as the smoke entered my tightened chest.

Then, leaning my head back against the banister in which I was perched on, I closed my eyes and exhaled, immediately feeling that lovely tingling and numbing sensation. If only that tranquil, relaxed feeling lasted for more than a millisecond, for before I knew it, I was halfway through the pack.

"W-what are you doing out here?" Stiles' chattering teeth pulled me out of my post-nightmare shock. "It's f-f-freezing."

Completely unaware that I was also violently shivering, I merely brushed my disheveled hair out of my face and replied with a tired smile: "Couldn't sleep."

Making a face, the sleepy pale teenager disappeared back inside, leading me to believe that he was heading back to return to bed. We all had had a late night. Between Scott and I witnessing Gerard slicing and dicing that Omega and Stiles catching a glimpse of the stark naked and raving mad Lydia Martin stumbling out of the woods, we were all a bit out of it. So when the lanky nerd came back out with a woolen blanket from the living room, I couldn't hide my surprise.

Brows raised and puffing away, I watched while Stilinski tossed the warm cloth around my shaking shoulders.

"Thanks," I muttered, only to be suddenly startled by an opossum rummaging around the nearby garbage can.

Heart racing, I exhaled deeply, completely frustrated over how much I was mentally unraveling, and in front of Stiles nonetheless.

Light brown eyes watching my oddly jumpy self, he stood in front of me, his hands buried deeply in his red hoodie sweatshirt.

"Had another nightmare, huh?" he asked somewhat casually.

Completely taken off guard, I gave the boy an inquisitive look and tried to deny the fact that something was wrong: "N-no, I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Your bed's against the same wall as mine," he responded, bouncing a bit to keep warm. "I've heard you a couple of times."

Obviously caught in my lie, I fell silent, choosing to smoke some more of my cigarette rather than actually say anything.

I hated feeling this weak and vulnerable, let alone in front of a human. I mean, I was supposed to be the big, strong werewolf, not some scared, broken little thing, but when Stilinski just stood there, awaiting a response, I finally caved.

"Look, I just saw a guy get chopped in half like he was a goddamn piñata on Cinco de Mayo," I grumbled my surly reply. "Bound to have a couple bad dreams…"

Pausing a bit, I could tell he was taking my words into consideration, and after a jerky nod, he awkwardly ventured: "You, ugh, you wanna talk about it?"

Watching the lanky dork hoisting himself up to sit beside me on the banister, only to clumsily teeter and almost fall backwards into the bushes, I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning.

Grabbing the spazztic teenager by the hood, choking him a bit in the process, I gruffly yanked him forward, helping him keep his balance, and as Stilinski sputtered a bit, I responded dryly: "Nothing to talk about."

"Charlie, come on. You've been acting weird for days now. You barely eat, probably don't sleep, and… and I, ugh, I didn't think it was possible, but you've been even grumpier than usual," he argued, his caramel eyes staring at me as I impassively stared ahead, now purposely avoiding his gaze.

"It's the withdrawal," I responded shortly, before quickly admitting: "And probably the full moon."

Immediately looking up to the sky, Stiles' eyes focused on the pale moon and I could almost hear the trepidation in his quickened pulse. Unexpectedly, however, Stilinski then perked up.

Yanking the cigarette out of my mouth, the lanky teen held it far from his face as he began to cough.

"Stiles," I growled, watching him stomp it out whilst I pulled out another bogie from the quickly dwindling pack.

"About that," he grinned excitedly and fumbled around his pajama pants pockets. "I, ugh, I got an idea."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, lazily watching as flicked the lighter.

"Yeah," he smiled, but once his caramel eyes landed on me lighting another one, his grin faded. "But, first, no more of these…"

Second cigarette pulled from my lips before I could even inhale that sweet, first drag, I felt my temper flare as he snapped the bogie in half.

"What the Hell?" my vexed voice was shrill, but once both of our gazes landed on the pack sitting directly between us, my eyes widened and we both lunged for it.

Both struggling over the package, we grunted and shoved each other, wrestling over the last thing I could use to keep control.

"Let go," I hissed, pushing my free hands against his face and trying to fend him off.

Stilinski's squashed face was equally as determined not to let go, and as he flailed violently and tried to smack my arm away, he grunted: "N-no."

Wobbling on the ledge, we continued to pull with all of our might, but when the sickening sound of tearing cardboard could be heard, Stiles and I both looked up as my last 5 cigarettes flew up into the air.

Frozen with our limbs still intertwined and tangled in the most awkward of positions, Stilinski and I both watched on with wide eyes as those 5 sticks of goodness flipped in slow motion, just to land in a puddle with a very anticlimactic 'plop'.

Heart pounding, I clenched my teeth as I watched them absorb all of the muddy water, and when Stiles and I slowly parted, the dweeby teen gulped, undoubtedly terrified of my enraged face.

Lip twitching, it took all of my will power to keep from hitting the pale teen upside the head, but as he stared back at me with that blotchy-cheeked and gawky grin, I sighed heavily: "You could take my drugs and my booze, but you just _had_ to take my cigs?"

Exhaling in complete relief that I didn't smack the shit out of him, Stilinski responded matter-of-factly: "They're a gateway drug."

Narrowing my eyes, I shook my head and exclaimed in utter disillusionment over how dumb he could be: "Weed's the gateway drug, dumbass…"

Pausing with furrowed brows, Stiles tried to play it off nonchalantly as he fumbled over his words: ""W-well then it's, um, it's the… the slippery, winding, treacherous path that… ugh, that leads up to gateway drug."

Simply staring back at him with an unamused face, Stilinski then flashed his weak, dopey grin and I couldn't help but giggle.

"You're an idiot," I shook my head, and as we both sat beside one another, chuckling at Stiles' absurd logic, our eyes met.

Laughter subsiding whilst an odd fluttering feeling hitting my stomach, I could feel my pulse quickening as we stared at one another in the pale moonlight. It was as if I couldn't look away form those large, golden brown orbs, and I felt my skin beginning to crawl.

It wasn't like that tingling sensation I had been experiencing before a hallucination. It was different… pleasant even, however, the moment was soon interrupted by the harsh headlights of a car zooming down the road.

Squinting and shielding our eyes from the unexpected intrusion, our gaze was broken and I immediately felt my cheeks redden.

What was going on with me lately? It was probably from the sleep deprivation… or the full moon…

Venturing another look at the lanky teenager, who seemed just as confused over what had just happened between us, I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject to something less uncomfortable: "S-so what's this genius plan of yours, huh? Cause it's the full moon tomorrow and I'm going through withdrawal…"

"Right," he was reminded of what he was previously doing and immediately began tapping away on his Galaxy phone. "Here," he proudly pressed something.

Harsh and piercing noise suddenly assaulting my all ready sensitive eardrums, I winced in pain and covered my ears: "Ugh, what is that? A dying cat trapped in a trash can?"

Completely perplexed, Stilinski looked from my pained expression to his phone and made a face as he read off the title of the white noise mp3 he had downloaded: "It's the 'Dulcet Sounds of Wind Chimes and Songbirds'… it's supposed to help you meditate. You know, so you can relax?"

Migraine substantially worse, all I really wanted was a cigarette, but of course, because of Stiles, I didn't have those anymore either…

"You wanna help me relax?" I rubbed my throbbing temples, voice beyond testy. "Come here so I can bash your face in…"

"O-okay," he anxiously squeaked, voice cracking a bit as he turned off the application and slowly put it back into his pocket: "Guess the playlist's a no go…"

Taking in his wide, uneasy smile, I simply barked sarcastically: "You think?"

"Well what was your great idea then?" he suddenly snapped defensively, taking me off guard slightly. "Cause I can't exactly have my dad finding a white werewolf chilling in the best bedroom…"

Taking in how truly nervous he looked, I suddenly felt bad. He was right to stress out. I mean, if I were him, I wouldn't want some uncontrollable Delta with a drug habit sleeping under the same roof as my loved ones.

"Stiles," my voice was much softer. "I'll be fine, okay? I swear," but when he merely raised his brows and had a thoroughly unconvinced look plastered on his face, I added: "I'll just work out some more, lock myself in your bedroom, and play videogames… just gotta stay distracted right?"

Nodding a bit, Stilinskis offered a weak smile, but I could tell he wasn't as reassured by my words as I had hoped. Hell, I certainly wasn't either…

Silence befalling us again, we both just sat there, staring at the starry sky.

"I, um, I'm sorry if I woke you up tonight," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Nah, I was up all ready," he sighed as he hopped off the railing, landed wrong, and fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Sniggering, I cocked my head to the side and asked in amusement: "For what?"

Grunting as he grabbed the banister and yanked himself back up, the eccentric and gangly kid responded casually, as if nothing had even happened: "Needed to get something."

Furrowing my brows, I curiously watched the boy opening the small trunk beside the house, only to pull out the largest set of chains I had ever seen.

"Do I even wanna know?" I kidded, brows cocked playfully.

Wide, devious grin spreading across his blotchy and flushed face, Stiles' light brown eyes twinkled as he responded with shrug: "You're not the only werewolf I gotta worry about tomorrow night."

* * *

><p>Propped up against Stilinski's infamous tin can of a vehicle, I drummed my fingers on my crossed arms impatiently.<p>

It was Lydia's first day back at school and Allison wanted to make sure that we were both there to walk her in. I knew our redheaded friend was the talk of the town after being found stumbling out of the woods butt ass naked, but to be honest, I kind of expected Beacon Hills' queen bee to like the attention.

Pounding back yet another cup of black coffee, I tried to tell myself that caffeine would help curb my serious need for a cigarette, yet it was no surprise that the moment I finished that warm, bitter deliciousness, I was back to tapping my fingers.

Damn Stiles for ruining my last few bogies. Not to mention that he had my wallet under lockdown, as if keeping my money would prevent me from getting my hands on another pack. But still, his resiliency and determination to keep me on the track to recovery was something to be admired, and I figured I owed it to the kid to at least hold out for as long as possible.

Sweating as I waited in the blinding morning sun, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing rather than my pounding headache and nausea, and when a gentle and much welcomed breeze rolled through the crowded lot, I felt myself beginning to doze off.

Four days with roughly three hours of sleep and here I was, nodding off against some beaten up and musty blue Jeep.

"Rise and shine sleeping beauty," Allison's cheerful voice interrupted my brief moment of respite.

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I took in her beaming, dimpled face and could only muster up a loud yawn as my morning greeting.

"Still not sleeping I see," she observed, tilting her head to the side as her brown eyes steadily watched me rolling my still neck.

"Yeah, well its been a hectic couple of days," I muttered, catching the scent of nicotine from somewhere on the premise.

Eyes darting around hungrily, I then spotted a bunch of the 'stoner' kids lighting up at the far end of the lot.

Following my gaze, Allison chuckled: "Scott told me Stiles is making you quit."

"Stilinski doesn't make me do anything," I put my nose up in the air, voice flat.

Cocking a brow in amusement whilst I continued to huff grumpily, the brunette shoved her hands into her gray pea-coat pockets and inquired: "Is that so?"

"Yeah," I defensively replied, "I would smoke if I really wanted to."

Throwing her head back and laughing at my dead-serious response, Allison then teased: "Oh really? That why you're practically drooling right now?"  
>Immediately checking my mouth to find that there was no visible salivation, I shot my giggling companion an irritated look.<p>

"Ha, ha," I responded sarcastically. "Very funny."

Still chuckling, Allison's face soon fell as she whispered in a hushed voice: "Wait, here she comes!"

Looking up from where I was staring at my black combat boots, I saw the flawless strawberry blonde strutting her way over to us, her head held high and confident smile plastered on her freshly glossed lips.

"Good morning," she practically sang, but the moment her hazel eyes landed on my disheveled and exhausted form, she pursed her lips and commented: "Did you even brush your hair this morning?"

Frowning, I heard Allison laugh, causing me to nudge her lightly in the ribs as I self-consciously patted the frizz down.

"And we _really_ need to get you a new wardrobe," she continued her unwelcomed assessment, brows raised as she scanned my outfit.

Glancing down at the oversized gray sweater and black leggings, I frowned and muttered under my breath: "Missed you too."

Fluffing her own green sundress, she then flipped her hair and turned to face our adolescent prison with a sigh: "Okay, let's go, shall we?"

Glancing a bit tentatively at the brunette standing beside me, we then shook our heads and followed the impenetrable queen bee.

"So you really don't remember anything?" Allison inquired.

"They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying, 'We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days'," she responded as we climbed the front steps, "But personally, I don't care," she shrugged as we opened the double doors. "I lost nine pounds."

Shaking my head at the shallow teenager's positive outlook on her extremely disturbing ordeal, all I could do was wonder how the Hell she could be so calm. I, myself, was beyond uneasy about the entire situation.

What in God's name happened to her? And even more unsettling, what the Hell was she?

Stepping foot into the packed corridor, the familiar, deafening chatter of our peers suddenly died down to hushed whispers. Stopping in our tracks, Allison and I then realized that every pair of eyes were on Lydia's uncomfortable face, however, those stares didn't hold those familiar elements of admiration and awe.

No, every student was gawking at the redhead as if she were some huge, social oddity. Some of them even looked scared of her.

"You okay?" Allison breathed, only making our frozen counterpart stand even straighter.

"Please," she snapped a bit testily, eyes blazing with determination as her shaken expression melted back into her characteristically haughty smirk. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer…"

Then, taking off down the hallway as if she owned the place, Lydia ignored everyone's anxious looks whilst I glanced at Allison, who was now forcing an uneasy laugh.

Shooting her a concerned look, the brunette merely brushed the comment off. Heading off to our lockers, I listened to the two girls chatting away and making plans about heading to the mall sometime soon.

Tuning out Lydia's harping over the fact that my wardrobe needed a 'serious facelift', I began swapping out my books, but soon, I felt my skin beginning to crawl.

With the loud shouts and laughter that once filled the hallway now dying down to low, garbled noises, I felt my body stiffen.

Pulse racing whilst my hairs stood on end, I nervously glanced to the small mirror hanging on the back of my locker, only to see the blurry image of some shadowy figure watching me from outside the window.

Heart nearly stopping, my eyes bulged out of my face as I spun around, however once I did, I was met with Kyle Greenberg's freckled face rather than that haunting silhouette.

"Greenberg," I gasped, hand over my pounding heart.

"S-sorry," he muttered, face completely perplexed by my odd behavior. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Eyes darting around to Allison and Lydia's own odd expressions, I cleared my throat and ran my hand through my wavy black hair: "Ugh, no, you didn't scare me," I lied unconvincingly. "Just didn't expect to see you…"

"Didn't expect to see me… at school?" he asked slowly, his blue eyes almost laughing at me.

Brain hurting to begin with, I didn't have the energy to think of a decent response, so I simply turned back to what I was originally doing.

Feeling his eyes boring holes into the back of my head as I continued to rummage around my locker, the Irish kid was clearly unsure as to why I seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder

"So, ugh, I-I texted you. Like a couple of days ago," he stammered a bit anxiously. "I don't know if you got it, but…"

"Yeah, I did," I responded dryly.

Pausing, Greenberg shifted uncomfortably, and suddenly feeling bad over how rude I was being, I shut my locker and turned to face the disheartened kid.

"I meant to answer," I threw my tote bag over my shoulder. "A few things just came up this weekend, sorry."

Nodding, I sensed he was still somewhat hurt by my foul attitude, but I felt too sick to let it really bother me.

"Well… are you okay?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared down at me. "You just took off at formal, and then that whole thing with Lydia happened…"

"Yeah," I cut him off, nodding vehemently as I glanced at the two girls now obliviously laughing over at Lydia's locker about ten feet away. "Yeah, everything's good," I stated shortly, spotting Scott and Stiles rushing from the boys' locker room, their hearts racing. "Thanks."

Blue eyes following my steady gaze, Kyle saw Stiles energetically and urgently waving me over.

"L-look, I gotta…"

"You gotta go," he finished my sentence, expression somewhat annoyed.

Giving him an apologetic look, I then heard Stilinski's impatient grunting and groaning, so I said sorry one last time and took off towards the two dork's literally bursting to share some new development with me.

"Come on," Stiles brown eyes darted between Greenberg's still staring form and my own annoyed one. "Could you take _any _longer?"

Rolling my eyes, I put my hands on my hips and responded: "You really need to cut back on the Adderall," and as Stiles opened his mouth to shoot back his own retort, I slapped my hand over his pie-hole and turned to Scott: "What's going on now?"

Ignoring his best friend's muffled swears, McCall looked around cautiously and dropped his voice: "There's another one."

Furrowing my brows, I allowed an irritated Stiles to push my hand off of his frowning mouth whilst I asked in confusion: "Another what?"

"Another werewolf," Stiles exclaimed loudly, his arms flailing about wildly.

Eyes widening, I felt my stomach knot whilst Scott hissed scoldingly at his hyperactive companion: "Dude…"

"S-sorry," Stilinski then whispered.

"How do you know?" I asked seriously, visions of both Lydia and Jackson flashing across my mind.

"He caught the scent in the locker room," Stiles explained animatedly.

"And you couldn't tell who it was?" I inquired, immediately concluding that Whittemore was the culprit.

"No," McCall responded despondently, however once he noticed me looking around wildly, his eyes narrowed.

He could probably hear how erratic my heart rate was.

"What if you can get him one-on-one," Stiles suggested, a plan definitely swirling around that crazy brain of his. "Would that help?"

"Yeah, probably," Scott's chocolate eyes were still fixated on my beyond troubled face.

Derek got us into a real mess this time…

"O-okay," Stilinskis voice was excited and fast. "I got an idea."

"Great," I suddenly looked at both boys. "You guys go do… well, whatever it is you wanna do," I started to back away.

"Wait, you're not gonna help?" Stiles called as he and McCall stared after me with beyond lost expressions.

"I, um, I need to take care of something first," I called over my shoulder before heading down the corridor, concentrating on finding that obnoxious and haughty lacrosse co-captain.

* * *

><p>Rushing down the overcrowded halls of the public institution of cruel and inhuman torture, I tried to keep my mind off of my churning stomach. I felt ill to the point where everything was rocking, as if I were on a boat, and with every step, I could feel my complexion becoming greener and greener.<p>

Shoving my way through some very unhappy junior girls, I ignored their loud swears directed my way and kept my thoughts as focused as possible.

Ears strained, I tried to hear Whittemore's snotty voice through the chaos, but unsurprisingly, I came up empty handed. Craning my neck once I got into the main intersecting corridors, I thankfully caught a whiff of his God-awful cologne.

Ralph Lauren Polo. How typical.

Making a sharp left turn, I accidently knocked some poor dork's science project all over the floor, sending various planets and asteroid models everywhere.

Muttering my apology, I, once again, tried to block out the harsh words of ill will as I journeyed closer and closer to that nauseating scent.

Gagging a bit, I tried to steady my breathing, and once I could finally hear Jackson's conceited voice, I ducked behind a long row of trophy cases and peered through the glass at Lydia and her ex-hubby talking in low voices.

"It's just… we haven't really spoken since that night and well… Jackson, can you, like, look at me for half a second?" Lydia practically begged the blonde boy with chiseled features to even pay her the slightest bit of attention.

Jaw clenched, Jackson then slammed the locker shut, making the teary eyed redhead flinch from surprise.

Soon, however, Lydia recovered, her facial expression going back to her usual aloofness: "Listen, if you hadn't found me and carried me back, I could have died. So I just I wanted to say thank you."

I could see how much it was killing her to remain impassive, especially with how absolutely standoffish and rude Whittemore was being, and to the naked eye, the queen bee was succeeding, however I could actually hear her heart breaking the moment he uttered his callous response: "Lydia, we're not getting back together."

Taken aback, Lydia blinked furiously and could only manage to get out a single, shaky word: "What?"

Blue eyes now gazing harshly down at the speechless girl, Jackson added coldly: "And just because I kept you from bleeding out on a field once, don't expect me to come running every time you start screaming."

"I never said…"

"I'm not responsible for you," he cut her mystified words off cruelly, making me ball my fists in anger.

Why was he being such a jerk to the one person in this school who actually gave a shit whether he lived or died? I didn't get it… I mean, it was Lydia Martin for God's sakes! Beautiful, intelligent, popular Lydia…

"Okay?" he continued to talk down his nose at the redhead, but the moment he saw her lip quivering and those hazel eyes glistening with hurt tears, Jackson softened his voice just a bit: "But I _will_ give you one piece of advice… if I were you, I'd stay home tonight."

Perplexed by his sudden change of demeanor and those very vague and slightly ominous words, the queen bee furrowed her brows and asked: "What does that mean?"

Heart pounding, I felt myself hanging onto the kid's every word, just like Lydia.

"What's tonight?" she inquired again, but when a small, crooked grin spread across his handsome face, I knew my hunch had to be right.

Chuckling under his breath slightly, Whittemore then responded coyly: "It's the full moon."

And although Lydia merely stood there, staring after him in utter confusion whilst he stalked off, I found myself quickly tailing him, having had my dark thoughts affirmed… or so I thought…

Staying a few feet behind him, I waited until the hallway cleared out a bit, and as the blonde co-captain rounded a corner and headed towards the east stairwell, I made my move.

"Jackson," my voice was strong and commanding.

Turning around, the teenage boy simply stared down his nose at me, expression quite bored. His heart rate was steady, face calm, and due to his lack of fear, I immediately felt my temper flare up.

Why didn't I intimidate him?

"We need to talk," I walked right up to him, face beyond stern and voice somewhat threatening.

"Says who? You're doggy handler Derek?" he shot back snottily, brows raised.

"Derek's not the boss of me," I retorted with just as much attitude.

Leaning down, into my face, Jackson then hissed condescendingly: "Sure he's not."

Glowering up into the arrogant son of a bitch's smugly sneering face, all I wanted to do was deck him right then and there, but I told myself that get worked up this close to a full moon was probably the last thing that I should do.

Fuming, I responded through clenched teeth: "Look, I'm here to help you."

"Help me now?" he snorted before he angrily stated: "Sorry, but I'll pass. So you can deal with that guilty conscience of yours somewhere else."

I did understand the kid's frustration. I mean he was literally hacking up the most disgusting black liquid and Derek and I just bailed on him, and if it were anyone other than Jackson Whittemore, I would have felt bad, but as I continued to glare up at his snooty face, all empathy went out the door.

"You think I give a rat's ass about whether or not I hurt your precious feelings? You think I really care what happens to you?" I snarled, making the boy's smug expression falter just a bit. "You got bit and your body was rejecting the bite. You should be dead right now, and to be honest, that would make my life a whole lot easier, but unfortunately for the both of us, that's not the case. For some weird reason, you're still here, which means you're now _my_ problem."

A bit taken aback by how coldhearted my words truly were, Jackson's blue eyes flickered with insecurity, but very much like his ex, he was a pro at pretending as if nothing phased him.

"Why? Cause I won't join your stupid pack?" he inquired rudely.

"Have you listened to a single word out of my mouth, or are you that stupid?" I shot right back bitingly. "I think Derek giving you the bite was the dumbest thing he's ever done, but no matter how much I wish I could, I can't change the past. You got bit and you regrettably still have a pulse, which means you're gonna turn tonight, and when you do, you could kill someone."

"So what? Is this some sort of public service announcement?" Whittemore snarkily retorted, "Cause truth be told, I think you're the one that should be worried… you know, since you've clearly got some control issues."

Eyes flashing, I was unable to control myself any longer.

Grabbing the egotistical bastard by the shirt collar, I rammed him with all of my might into the wall, wiping the haughty grin right off of his face.

"Listen here, you little prick," I growled through my fangs, voice quaking in complete rage. "Since my _dense_ older cousin was the one that bit you, if you harm anyone or anything tonight, all of the hunters in this town won't just be gunning for you… they'll be coming for us all." Claws ripping holes in his shirt as I tightened my grip, my black and white vision took in Jackson's now petrified eyes: "And although I personally would like nothing more than to watch you take a whole bunch of arrows to the face, I know if they target you, me and my family are next, and I didn't survive a fire or help kill my own _father_ just to get taken down because some spoilt, arrogant brat couldn't handle that he peaked in high school."

Trembling kid's hands now grasping mine, Jackson tried to loosen my iron grip, but the second his skin touched mine, an overwhelming and painful burning sensation jolted throughout my entire body. Immediately releasing him as he clutched his throbbing throat, my wide, disturbed eyes could only stare at him in horror.

It felt as if both of my arms were plunged into a bucket of dry ice, and as my limbs continued to twitch, I could tell Jackson was just as taken aback the strange occurrence.

Both of our hearts racing, I had no idea what the Hell could have caused that, but I immediately assumed that Whittemore had somehow gotten his hands on wolfsbane or something. Either way, he was playing dirty, and today was not the day to test me.

"What was that?" I demanded, eyes almost murderous.

"W-what are you talking about?" he stumbled over his words, blue eyes rightfully worried.

"Don't play dumb," I hissed, trying to ignore the pain still shooting through my nerves. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Taking a few anxious steps to the side, the popular teen inched his way up the steps, fretful gaze never leaving my threatening scowl: "I-I swear, I have no clue what…"

"I'm gonna try this again," I cut him off whilst I advanced some more, words slow and foreboding. "I know you're hiding something, and you're going to tell me what that is, because if you don't, I'm gonna beat it out of you."

Menacing smile flashing across my dangerous face, Jackson's pulse raced wildly as he continued to back up, however, once I saw that his distressed blue eyes were currently focused on something just behind me, I stopped.

"Miss Hale?" a young woman's voice sounded.

Threatening gaze still fixated on the speechless boy, I took a deep breath, regained control, and turned around with the brightest and most innocent of smiles.

"Yes?" I raised my brows at the young African American woman steadily watching me. Immediately recognizing her as the school's French teacher, I then forced a light laugh and greeted the attractive woman with the sweetest of voices: "Oh, Ms. Morrell, hi. Is there something I can help you with?"

Dark brown eyes moving from my warm expression to Whittemore's uncertain one, the teacher with straight black hair responded with an even voice: "Yes, actually. I was hoping you would join me for a quick chat."

She seemed oblivious enough, yet there was something behind her words that gave me the sense that she could see through my convincingly harmless charade.

Smirk flickering despite my best efforts to seem as affable as possible, I immediately began panicking that this particular faculty member had possibly overheard my little conversation with Jackson.

Of course this would happen. I had just concluded that Whittemore was, in fact, the new werewolf, and before I could figure out what else the damned kid was hiding, now I was going to get into trouble. Just fricken perfect…

"Sure," my voice came out a bit strained, but as the woman gave my companion a small nod and motioned for me to follow, I shot the still speechless lacrosse co-captain a wide, sinister grin: "See you around, Jackson."

Smirk falling the second I turned back around, I felt my stomach churning with worry and guilt. Silently following the poised young woman down the now empty corridor, I knew I had no time for this.

Things were spiraling out of control and I needed to find Scott and Stiles. I needed to fess up about everything I had been hiding from them in an effort to protect my bumbling cousin. I needed to tell them that Jackson was the werewolf, and that Derek was the one that had bit him, even if it meant McCall and Stilinski would never trust me again.

I just hoped that wherever this teacher was taking me, it wouldn't take too long.

* * *

><p>Sitting in a large, upholstered chair opposite the silently staring Ms. Morrell, I bounced my leg anxiously. I had no clue as to why I had been called into the unnervingly quiet faculty member's office, but as the uncomfortable minutes kept ticking by, I felt myself beginning to sweat. Gnawing on my nails, I avoided her piercing brown eyes, trying to block out my pounding headache and violently churning stomach.<p>

I was dying for a cig. And I desperately missed my little 'blue and white' friends. I would've even killed for a shot or hit of joint, for at this point, I could feel my insides literally screaming for something… _anything_…

My chest ached, and as my exhausted and irascible gaze landed back on the young woman's small, content smile, I snapped.

"So are you gonna tell me why I'm here, or can I leave?" I impatiently blurted out, giving up my previous attempts at appearing friendly.

"Silence makes you uncomfortable," the lovely African American woman noted calmly, completely unphased by my hostile tone of voice. "Good to know."

Feeling beyond sick and even more pressed for time, I was too goddamn stressed for this bullshit. I needed to talk to Stiles and Scott, but here I was, being held captive by Beacon Hills' resident French instructor, and I didn't even take French!

"Yeah, well so do clowns, but I don't see how any of this is relevant," I sardonically retorted, crossing my slender arms and bouncing my leg.

"And you clearly have an issue with authority figures," she scribbled her astute observations onto a small file.

Eyeing her closely, I had zero clue as to what was going on, but rather than ask for an answer I probably wouldn't like, I decided to just be my sarcastic, irreverent self.

"Just being your average hormonal teenager, I guess," I sighed, leaning back and awaiting the inevitable reprimand for my poor manners, however no actually came.

"Oh, I think we both know you're not a typical 16-year-old, Charlie," Ms. Morrell spoke softly, a demure smirk tugging on her lips as her eyes held a nerve-racking glint.

Mouth going dry, my heart rate immediately sky rocketed whilst I mentally blew a gasket.

What the Hell did this lady know?

Deciding my best bet was to play it cool, I successfully hid my unease as my outwardly composed self merely stared blankly back at her.

"Want to explain what you were doing when I found you today?" the foreign language teacher asked, brows arched and pulse steady.

Shit… she definitely overheard me and Jackson… or worse…

Oh God, she didn't see me half shifted, did she?

Christ, Charlie! You're such a fricken mess!

Stifling the urge to vomit, I feigned ignorance with an almost smug smirk: "You mean talking to my friend?"

"I _mean_ being tardy for class the fourth time this week," the woman with flawless, mocha skin scolded me.

Almost sighing in relief, I instantly felt my body loosen up.

Thank God…

"You came to this school less than three months ago and you've all ready wracked up 27 latenesses, 15 absences, 1 detention, and missed over a dozen assignments," Ms. Morrell rattled off the growing list of my academic offenses.

Trying my hardest not to laugh in the young teacher's face, I responded with a slightly mocking tone: "And as a French teacher, you've taken the liberty to straighten me out? That's really touching."

Not amused in the slightest, Ms. Morrell's face remained impassive, yet her voice became much more cross: "I was asked, as the school's guidance counselor, to step in before you either got held back or expelled."

Not caring whether or not she was qualified to be having such a discussion with me, I snarkily snorted: "And who was concerned enough to make that call? My dead mother?"

"No, but Sheriff Stilinski seems to think her passing may have something to do with your acting out," she replied coolly, her deep brown eyes watching me suddenly become much more docile at the mention of John's name.

Leave it to Mr. Stilinski to try to make me live up to my potential. Like father, like son, I guess…

However catching myself softening up, I put those defenses right back up, for although the sheriff was a kind man, he was an absolute fool to think some second-rate school counselor could fix me.

I was simply too far gone.

"And what's _your_ professional opinion?" I challenged her, brows raised as I continued to pick at my chipped nails.

Folding her delicate hands with a somewhat vexed sigh, Ms. Morrell leaned forward on her desk and stated evenly: "I realize you've had it rough for a long time now, and I also believe that you're just coping in the only way you know how."

"By sabotaging my education?" I scoffed loudly.

"By sabotaging your entire life," she corrected me seriously.

Now this time, I was the one to lean forward as I dropped my voice and countered: "Maybe I like being bad."

"I think you like to pretend you do," her words struck a chord, yet my pride wouldn't let me fold that easily.

Brushing it off, I sourly slumped back against the chair and remained in defiant silence, electing to tap my foot in irritation and merely stare right back at her inexpressive face.

We sat there for about another five minutes, with no words being exchanged at all; yet as I stiffly gazed out the window, my temples throbbing terribly, Ms. Morrell finally spoke up: "You seem on edge."

Eyes darting back over to the young teacher, I defensively snapped: "I'm perfectly fine."

"Is that why you've been fidgeting so much?" she cocked a brow, her intense gaze making me even more uncomfortable.

I knew that I physically looked like a mess, but the fact that I was openly acting like some tweaked out junkie, well it certainly made me feel that much worse about my withdrawal.

"Yeah, well I don't like talking to strangers," I retorted grumpily, now focusing on remaining absolutely still.

Watching me intently, Ms. Morrell nodded a bit: "Well I certainly hope you'll eventually view me as a friend."

Looking back up into her steady brown eyes, I opened my mouth to respond, but thankfully the bell shrilly sounded, cutting me off and saving me from this torturous situation.

"Well, this was fun," I jumped up from my seat and grabbed my bag before satirically adding: "I feel totally adjusted now, so thanks."

"That's nice to hear," she stated pleasantly, but just as I was about to disappear out the door, the annoyingly perceptive guidance counselor called after me: "Oh, and Charlie? I look forward to seeing you again next week."

Pausing in the doorway, I stopped and turned to face the grinning teacher, voice filled with dread: "N-next week?"

"Oh yes," she nodded, now boasting the widest, almost taunting of smiles as she delivered the bad news: "It was decided you should come once a week for the entire rest of the semester."

Face falling, I merely sulked and grouchily grumbled under my breath: "Terrific…"

"Have a nice day!" Ms. Morrell offered her overly pleasant farewell, to which I simply grunted and moodily stalked off down the packed hallway.

Yeah, have a nice day, indeed... I couldn't see how this day could get any worse…

Of course, this thought was soon proven wrong the second I rounded the bend and spotted two police cars parked outside the main lobby windows.

Furrowing my brows, I knew something had to be off, and so trying to sift through all the chaotic clamor of my peers, I finally heard the sound of the sheriff's solemn words.

Following his voice, I pushed my way through the main hallway, only to spot Jackson leaving the principal's office with Mr. Stilinski close behind him.

Troubled green eyes moving from the much less effected co-captain strolling away, I felt myself beginning to worry over what could have happened.

Did Whittemore hurt someone? Did he rat me out over our little encounter about an hour ago?

Mind racing, I watched Stiles' dad rub his hands over his tired face, but almost instantaneously, both he and I noticed two teenage boys obviously crouched beside the principal's door and failing miserably at being inconspicuous.

"Scott," the sheriff spoke sternly, whilst the tan teen emitted a strained laugh.

"H-hi," he smiled weakly, glancing at his partner in crime, who was currently still attempting to hide his presence behind his literature textbook.

Shaking his head at his exhausting son and his best friend, Mr. Stilinski opened his mouth to respond, but soon gave up. Turning to leave, he then started walking towards the main exit, giving me the opportunity to go over and ask my friends what the Hell was going on.

But as I determinedly headed over to meet them, a cold and familiar voice caught my attention, making my blood run cold.

"Boys, care to come inside?"

Wide eyes taking in both McCall and Stilinski's timid expressions whilst they stared up at the terrifying speaker, I was met with a horrifying sight indeed.

Gerard Argent was in the school.

But what was he doing here?

Heart thumping wildly, my eyes darted from Gerard's wicked smile to both teenagers slowly entering the principal's office.

Oh, crap…

Stomach instantaneously dropping, I then put two and two together, and as the horrendous fact that Gerard somehow weaseled his way into the position of Beacon Hills' principal set in, I caught the faint sound of Isaac Lahey's argumentative voice.

Feeling ill, the place was spinning as my gaze then landed on the image of two deputies shoving the tall boy with wide, yet unnervingly wild eyes into the back of the squad car, but once the doors slammed shut in his face, those baby blues turned into a heartbreaking yellow hue.

Racing thoughts immediately coming to yet another distressing conclusion, I couldn't help but curse in utter fury and frustration: "Son of a bitch!"

And as I watched the police cars pull away, ignoring everyone's stares due to my loud outburst, I felt my overwhelmed mind snap a bit.

Not only was Gerard Argent now stationed at my school, but Isaac apparently was the mysterious new the werewolf. And now that he had just been arrested, I understood things were just going to get even more complicated.

Stunned and vibrating with rage, I felt my own eye flash with fury.

Derek had some serious explaining to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jeeeese! Over ****20**** reviews for only ****3**** chapters?! *sniffle* so moved! **

**Special thanks to: ****_High Serpent King, "avid fan", "Guest 1", XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, "Guest 2", xxxanniexx, "Heather", SortofForever, 99Tina99, EmeraldGrey22, and Wolflihood_**

**All of you make this so much more rewarding! This chapter was inspired by ****IAMX's "Animal Impulses"**** and the 8tracks will be up within the next two updates!**

**This update has some pretty important learning curves for Charlie (though she won't realize until later - with a little nudge from Allison/Scott). Anyways, thanks for the patience, cause mid-terms are finally over! Yippeee!**

**Anyway, lemme know what y'all think! Pleaseeee follow, favorite, and comment if you like what yah read! SOOO READ AWAY and ENJOY MY DARLINGS!**

FOUR: ANIMAL IMPULSES

Biting my nails, I waited slumped outside of the principal's office as I continued to bounce my legs, head spinning and pulse racing.

There was no denying what I saw. I saw Isaac's enraged blue eyes suddenly glow bright yellow as he was shoved into the back of Sheriff Stilinski's squad car, but why had Lahey even been arrested?

I knew Derek had to be behind this whole thing, but before I ran off to kick the crap out of my older cousin and then go clean up his colossal mess, I needed to know the facts, but… of course, the only two people who could help me were currently being cross-examined by Gerard Argent.

I felt beyond overwhelmed, and as I tried to strain my ears to hear what painful interrogation was taking place behind closed doors, all I could make out were low, garbled voices.

Damn hunters. Sound-proofing everything…

Thoroughly frustrated and having panicked heart palpitations, I sighed and absentmindedly slammed my head back against the wall rather hard, but as I let out a low, pained grunt and rubbed the small growing lump, the door opened.

Immediately sitting up, I intently watched the edgy looking Stiles and Scott exiting the office, as the taller, lankier teen's light brown eyes landed on my urgent expression.

His heart was racing, but assuming it was because he had just been locked in a room with Allison's terrifying grandfather, I merely leapt up and hurriedly asked: "Stiles. Scott. What the Hell is going…"

But as both oddly stiff teenagers merely stared back at me with uncomfortable expressions, my wide eyes landed right on Gerard's silently watching form standing in the doorway.

Mouth going dry, I swallowed the rest of my sentence the moment his beady little black eyes peered down at me.

Following the two rigid and quiet teens outside, the balding man's face was decorated with an eerily knowing smirk.

"And who is this young lady skipping class?" he raised his white brows at me, though his voice was more curious than authoritative.

I knew that Allison and her parents were well aware about what I was, but there was no way of telling whether or not they had filled in Gerard, and I wasn't inclined to just hand-feed him my relation to one of the most well-known werewolf families on the west coast.

"Ugh, um," I stuttered, completely at a loss for words whilst I tried to come up with an acceptable alias.

"She's a friend," Stiles suddenly blurted out, flashing a weak smile.

Shooting him a look, I really wanted to slap the hyperactive teen upside the head, but when Gerard continued to eye me closely, I turned my scolding expression into a bright, innocent grin.

"I assumed that, Mr. Stilinski, from her loitering outside my office to get a quick word in with you two," his words were slow and calculated, only making Stilinski chuckle nervously.

"S-sorry," I apologized, trying to appear as calm as possible, though my stomach was churning. "I'm, um, I'm still kinda new here, and ugh, I saw the police and got worried so I came to find Stiles and Scott."

Hoping he'd buy my naïve façade, the old hunter glanced at both boys who were now nodding quite vigorously in agreement.

Face even, I couldn't read what was going through that sinister mind, so I sighed and opened my mouth to try a different route, but soon Gerard's wrinkled face lit up.

"Ah, you must be Charlie," he stated airily, friendly smile spreading across his face whilst his black eyes held a glimmer of malice behind them. "Allison's close friend who just moved here from… what was it?"

"Manhattan," I replied with a curt nod, glancing nervously at the two staring boys, whose hearts were also racing.

"New York City," he beamed, voice grand. "The City that Never Sleeps. Quite a change coming to a sleepy town like Beacon Hills, but I'm sure hanging out with these two and my granddaughter have kept things interesting."

All three of us laughing stiffly, I decided to keep my mouth shut rather than give anything away, for I had the sinking feeling that Gerard knew a lot more than he was letting on.

"I just hope these two aren't turning you into a troublemaker," Gerard's cold eyes glanced at both boys, who were now standing on either side of me.

Snorting a bit over those preposterous words, I had to nudge Stilinski in the ribs, but as Gerard took in the gangly kid rubbing his side and my and Scott's uncomfortable smirks, the frightening hunter continued: "But as I told them, I don't like to be made the bad guy, so make sure this is the last time I hear of you skipping classes, okay?"

Taking in his arched brows, I listened to his steadily beating heart and nodded my head as sincerely as possible.

I wanted no reason to be called into his office, because the only alone time I desired to spend with this man would be when I was tearing him limb from limb.

"Now, get back to class," he shooed us away, and as both boys yanked me back and practically sprinted down the hallway, I stole one last glance at the wickedly smiling man's face and felt rage bubbling up inside of me.

I knew my fear of Gerard was a rational one, but I couldn't help but be disappointed in myself. No one ever intimidated me, least of all a human hunter. He was a cold-blooded killer, and a problem that needed to be eliminated. There was no time to be afraid.

"Where've you been?" Stilinski hissed a tad scoldingly as we rounded the corner. "You just took off."

Snapping out of my dark thoughts, I recalled my unnerving encounter with Jackson. I still couldn't explain that burning sensation I felt when he grabbed me, but considering Isaac was the new beta running rampant through town, I chalked up Whittemore's odd behavior to just that… odd, but not troublesome enough to mention.

"I had something I needed to check up on," I kept the strange occurrence to myself, going immediately back to gnawing on my fingernails.

Jesus, my head was hurt…

"For two class periods?" McCall asked, completely unconvinced.

Glancing between both impatiently awaiting teenagers, my throbbing mind shot back to the irritating encounter with Ms. Morrell and my temper flared up some more.

"Well then I was forced into some half-rate therapy session because your dad apparently thinks I'm a ticking time bomb," I growled stonily, eyes taking in Stilinski's somewhat surprised expression at the mention of his father: "As if I'm gonna go off unless I 'open up' and talk to an unqualified language teacher…"

Making a thoughtful face, Stiles puffed out his cheeks and offered with a shrug: "Maybe it'll be good for you… you know, learning to express your feelings in a healthier way than…"

"Than threatening to bash your teeth in if you don't stop talking?" I cut him off crossly, feeling fresh waves a nausea sweeping back over my still-sweating body.

Looking from my dangerous face to Scott's wide chocolate eyes, Stiles then nodded jerkily, his voice a tad high: "P-point taken. Shutting up."

"Besides," I blew some hair out of my face as we stopped off at Stilinski's locker. "Pretty sure we have more pressing matters to deal with."

"Yeah, like I knew Isaac was a little off, but murdering his dad?" Stiles asked, jamming some books into his overflowing and cluttered locker.

Eyes nearly bulging out of my face, I let out some stunned and choked syllables only to blurt out an incredulous: "He _what?"_

Glancing from his best friend to my distressed face, Scott asked quietly: "You didn't know?"

"_NO!_" my voice was shrill as my eyes darted between both awkwardly speechless teens.

"But you saw the cops. You had to have at least heard he got arrested, I mean its all over the school," McCall stated the obvious.

"I did," my voice was strained as I began to pace about anxiously. "And I figured he just lost control and maybe hurt someone like a normal newbie does, but _murder_?"

"I'm glad you think physically harming someone else is completely acceptable," Stiles muttered whilst repeatedly trying and failing to shut his stuffed locker.

Ignoring his grumbles, I continued to walk back and forth, my breathing becoming more and more erratic.

"This is great… just fricken great," I mumbled under my quickened breath.

Derek just _had_ to pick the kid that gets the crap kicked out of him every night… like what the Hell did he think was gonna happen? Being a werewolf cured physical and mental illness, but it couldn't remedy such emotional scarring…

"What?" McCall seemed beyond freaked at how panicked I was, all while Stiles was using all of his weight to try to shut the locker.

"My cousin's just an ever bigger idiot than I thought possible," I put my hands on my head and tried to steady my breathing.

Calm down, Charlie.

You can't lose control now.

You need to focus.

Exhaling deeply, I casually punched Stilinski's locker closed, locking it in the process.

"So what are they gonna do with him?" I asked, attempting to regain some composure as I stared up at Stiles somewhat shocked expression.

As Stilinski's caramel eyes darted from the large dent in his locker to my unphased face, Scott was the one to speak up: "I guess whatever they do with all murder suspects, right?"

Heart sinking, Stiles and I immediately looked at one another in trepidation the moment we realized what those words actually meant.

Glancing between our highly alarmed faces, the young beta was obviously lost: "Is that a bad thing?"

"Very bad," Stiles looked at his best friend, voice and face extremely grave.

Now very alarmed, but still confused, Scott merely stared back at his lanky and pale companion.

"They're, ugh, they're gonna lock him a holding cell for 24 hours," the eccentric teen responded in a low voice.

"Like… overnight?" the adorable, yet sometimes thick tan teen asked.

"Yes, Scott," I spoke up, biting my lip a bit. "During his first full moon…"

Deep brown eyes widening in realization, Scott's voice was now quite strained: "How good are these cells at holding people?"

"People, good," Stiles mused out loud, before sharing the grim truth. "_Werewolves_… probably not that good."

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?" McCall brought up some conversation I clearly had missed.

"Yeah," Stilinski nodded, voice filled with trepidation.

"Well I think, ugh, I think he does," the tan teen's heart was racing.

Turning to see Stiles' thoroughly worried face, I knew exactly where his racing mind was traveling: his father.

Feeling horrible for the rightfully worried son, Scott must have had the same assumption as he blurted out: "Wait! Wait! Isaac's a minor! Your dad won't hold a minor right?"

Taking in the teenager's optimistic expression and positive tone of voice, Stiles seemed appreciative over his friend's attempt at finding the bright side of the situation, but soon his hopeful face fell: "Not unless they have solid evidence…"

Moaning despite my best efforts, I felt both of my companions' gazes shoot right over to me.

"What?" Stilinski asked, clearly now even more concerned.

I understood voicing what dark thoughts were running through my mind would only heighten the dorky kid's anxiety, so I practically whispered apologetically: "Or a witness…"

Glancing from one another back to me, I ran a hand through my hair and connected the horrible dots for them: "Jackson was in the office talking to your dad, right?"

"So?" McCall asked, furrowing his brows.

Almost hearing his heart sink, Stiles' defeated light brown eyes gazed at my sad ones as he finally grasped that his father was going to be in grave danger this evening: "He's Isaac's neighbor."

Feeling so awful for the extremely fretful boy staring at his speechless best friend, all I wanted to do was tell him that everything would be okay, however, I also knew I could never promise such a thing. Not with a brand new, possibly homicidal werewolf being kept in the police station during the full moon.

Still, taking in his lost and helpless face, I felt the urge to do _something._

"Okay," I looked between both boys with a determined face. "So what do we do?"

Staring back at me blankly, I knew Scott would be no help, but when I glanced at the king of strategizing, Stilinski merely looked despondently out the window, his distraught pulse racing.

"What's the plan?" I repeated sternly, making his caramel eyes meet mine.

"I-I don't know," he muttered.

The panic was making him freeze, but just how Stiles was there to help me focus so many times, now it was my turn to return the favor.

"Stiles, I'm not gonna let anything happen to him," I stepped forward, looking right up into his face, my voice soft. "But you need to point me in the right direction."

Staring down at my steady, unwavering gaze, the pale teen blinked and nodded a bit, running a hand over his short, dark brown hair.

"Y-yeah, okay," he was slowly shaking off his crippling angst, making a small smirk form on my satisfied face. "But I, um, I got detention so… so you and Scott cut the next class and figure out if we can get him a lawyer, and once I'm out, I'll meet up with you guys."

"Great, but what, um, what if we can't get the lawyer?" Scott asked, glancing between his best friend and I still staring at one another.

Pausing, Stilinski was lost for words once again, most likely feeling that overwhelming weight of fear, but holding his worried gaze, I spoke up confidently: "Then we'll find a way to break him out, right?"

But when Stiles continued to gaze down at me, visibly shaken at the thought of his father being so close to such a rabid beast, I reached out, touched his shoulder, and stated more forcefully: "_Right?"_

Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, Stiles then repeated with a forced, bleak smile: "Right."

"No one's getting hurt tonight," I added gently, flashing my own fake, albeit convincing smirk, "We got this."

And with one last, small squeeze of the nerd's lean, yet oddly muscular arm, I turned and headed out the door.

Lagging behind, Scott had been closely watching the uncharacteristically tender exchange with a strange expression, so I then called over my shoulder: "Are you coming?"

Hearing him quickly shuffle after me, the tan teen continued to stare as we headed towards the main exit, and after another few moments of the irritating prickling sensation of his probing eyes, I turned to him and growled: "What?"

Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, Scott shook his head and muttered: "Nothing."

"Scott," I pursed my lips as I stepped through the door McCall was holding open for me. "You're a miserable liar, and I can hear your heart."

Squinting in the brilliant sunlight, the young beta observed my impatient face as I cocked a brow at him.

"It's just that I've never seen you like that," he responded, tip-toeing around whatever he was thinking about.

"Like what?" I asked, face impassive though my voice was slightly on edge.

"Ugh… I-I don't know… I guess, um, I guess you and Stiles are closer than I thought…"

Eyeing the small, crooked grin spreading on Scott's dimpled face, I immediately grew hot.

What was he talking about? Nothing even happened. I was just being a good friend.

"I-I mean, I live with him and he's been helping me a lot lately, so I… I guess we've gotten closer, but you know… we're friends," I laughed a little, shrugging and hoping my cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "And he was concerned about his dad and… and…" taking in McCall's widening, toothy grin, I blurted out a bit more gruffly: "Stiles freaking out wasn't gonna solve anything, so I needed to get him to focus. That's it. Nothing major."

Still gazing down at me with that stupid smile on his face, half of me wanted to bury my burning face into my hands, and the other half wanted to deck him.

God, I really hated the full moon.

Before I could snap at my irksome werewolf companion, however, a shiny black Camaro screeched to a stop directly in front of us, making Scott and I leapt back a bit in surprise.

"Get in," Derek commanded from the open window, brilliant green eyes peering at us from over his sunglasses.

"Are you serious?" Scott growled, stepping in front of me aggressively.

"Yes," Derek barely even glanced at the young beta, his gaze fixated on my fuming face.

"This is all your fault," I crossed my arms, glowering at my stupid older cousin.

"I know that," he snapped, before swallowing his pride and grunting: "Now will you get in the car and help me?"

"No, I've got a better idea," McCall snarled, eyes narrowed. "We're gonna call a lawyer, because they might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up."

Standing firmly beside my friend, I watched Derek look to me, but I merely turned my nose up at him in silent defiance.

Did he really think he could just go around turning teenagers and nothing would happen? Moreover, how could he expect us to just stop everything to help him clean up the mess _he _made?

Hearing his heart rate elevate, I saw a vein starting to protrude from his thick neck as he sarcastically shot back in aggravation: "Yeah, well not when they do a real search of the house."

Stomach dropping a bit, Scott and my stubborn insubordination wavered whilst the beta timorously inquired: "What do you mean?"

Eyes darting between both McCall and myself, my older cousin then stated evenly: "Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in that house is worse. _A lot_ worse."

And as Scott and I stared back at Derek's sincerely ominous expression, we turned to glance at once another, silently concurring that we needed to find out what the new alpha was keeping from us.

Then, with a heavy sigh, we silently piled into the dark sports car, completely unprepared for what was to come.

* * *

><p>Sun slowly setting, I continued to anxiously check my phone every couple of minutes, only to find that I still had no messages.<p>

I knew Mr. Harris loved causing students pain, but a detention _this_ long? That was plain sadistic!

"You okay there?" Derek asked dully, glancing over to me from where I was sitting shotgun.

Quickly drumming my fingers on the armrest, I simply stared darkly out the window and clenched my jaw.

I could feel his eyes boring holes into the side of my face, but I didn't care. I was too worried about Stiles and Isaac, too sick from my withdrawal, and too pissed about the entire nightmarish situation to respond to the man beside me.

"What? You're not even gonna talk to me now?" he pressed on, and I could hear Scott shifting a bit anxiously in the back seat.

Watching the houses zoom by, I felt myself growing more and more erratic with each passing second, and as the sun disappeared behind the distant horizon of trees, I began to grow sicker.

Closing my eyes, I attempted to block everything out. My pounding head, my queasy stomach, my burning lungs… it was all getting worse, but when Derek continued to goad me, I snapped.

"Why would I talk to you? What you did was stupid, irresponsible, and selfish!" I barked, balling my fists as I turned and glared right into his equally furious face.

"Look who's talking," he retorted snottily, obviously referring to my past misdeeds.

Catching Scott's silently warning gaze, I understood why the tan teen would want me to just let my cousin's dig go, but with the withdrawal only heightening the full moon's effects, I couldn't help but shoot back: "Well at least I managed not to become a national fugitive..."

"You know the charges are being dropped," my older cousin growled through clenched teeth as we turned onto Isaac and Jackson's block.

"And there's no red flags going off in that thick head of yours that maybe you should, oh, I don't know, _lay low!_"

Pulling up the driveway to Lahey's dark, vacant home, Derek and I just sat there, shooting daggers at one another, but after a few tense moments on nothing but the sound of two enraged pulses, Scott cleared his throat: "M-maybe we should, um, go inside…"

Still glowering at my mentally challenged older cousin, I sourly kicked his door open, knowing that would irk the guy some more.

Then, as the other two piled out, I slammed the Camaro's door shut, making the entire vehicle shake.

"Could you be a _little _louder?" Derek scolded me in a low, threatening voice, but I merely flashed him an obnoxious smile before flipping my hair and leading the procession around the side of moonlit lawn.

Sneaking up to the back of the house, Derek then gruffly pushed me out of the way and bent down, using his claws to pick the lock on the door, and after a 'click' was heard, it swung open with a long, unsettling creak.

Peering into the darkness, all three of us just stood there, a bit apprehensive.

"Ladies first," Derek's haughty voice sneered in my ear.

Swatting at his stubbly face, I then stonily remarked: "_Fine. _It's not like the goddamn place is haunted."

But once we all stepped inside the shadowy home and closed the door behind us, I felt a crushing and oppressive feeling wash over me, and instantly, I found it harder to breathe.

Stopping in my tracks, I looked around.

Something was off…

"You feel it, don't you?" Derek's low voice no longer held a tone of irritation.

"Feel what?" Scott asked, brows furrowed and voice hushed.

"What happened here," my older cousin responded for me as I continued to make my way around the kitchen.

Sudden crackling noise coming from underneath my feet, I looked down and saw a hard, twinkling substance scattered across the tile floor: broken porcelain plates.

Squatting down, I picked a few pieces up, but the moment I gripped the sharp shards, I saw flashes of flying dishes, angry shouts, and felt an intense wave of fear and anguish.

Jumping up, I stumbled back against the counter and dropped the broken kitchenware back down whilst I grew slightly faint.

"Charlie," Scott rushed forward as I swayed a bit, gripping the island to keep myself steady. "Are you okay?" but when all I could do was wave him off and clamp my eyes shut, McCall turned to my older cousin and demanded: "What just happened to her?"

Head spinning as I felt my stomach churning, I managed to gasp out: "I-I think he's… he's innocent…"

"What?" Scott incredulously turned to face me as I began to undergo yet another cold sweat.

Glancing at my somewhat proud looking older cousin, I exhaled with a wavering voice: "He… he didn't kill his dad."

Turning back to face Derek, McCall saw just how unphased the alpha was, as if he had known the truth this entire time.

"Well if Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" Scott asked, his voice sounding different to my ringing ears.

Green eyes growing darker, Derek confessed honestly: "I don't know yet."

"Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" Scott's skepticism was apparent.

"Because," Derek nodded over to me as I continued to attempt to regain my composure. "Like her, I trust my senses… and it's a combination of them. Not just your sense of smell."

Hearing the slightly mocking tone to his voice, I glanced up from my feet and saw Scott's embarrassed expression.

I was definitely missing something, but to be honest, I felt way too ill to even care. My body ached and as my eyes slowly drifted to the open window, I saw the full moon making its steady climb up into the sky.

A shudder went through my body.

"You saw the lacrosse thing today," McCall's sheepish voice was barely audible over my own pumping blood.

"Yeah."

"Did it look that bad?" his face was almost a pained one.

And very much a Hale, Derek felt no need to sugar coat it as he impassively stated: "Yup."

Appearing disappointed in himself, Scott let out a sigh, but then Derek stepped forward, yanked open the basement door, and called over: "You wanna learn? Let's start now."

"W-what's down there?" Scott inched forward as I watched their hazy forms from where I was standing.

My vision was going dim and my brain was beginning to get all fuzzy.

"Motive," Derek's voice was faraway and echoing.

"And what am I looking for?" Scott started down the creaky steps.

"Follow your senses," Derek instructed, but soon he turned back around and raised his brows at me impatiently: "You just gonna stand there?"

Feeling every muscle tensing up, I tried to swallow the chunks rising in my throat, and as I gagged them down, I nodded stiffly and slowly made my way forward.

Trying to pass my older cousin, I felt his large hand fall heavily on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Should I be worried about you?" he asked, tone flat.

Looking up at his bright green eyes, I could tell there was a part of him that was truly concerned, but being my typical self, I hated feeling vulnerable and bitingly retorted: "I've survived this long without you giving a crap, I think I can make it through tonight…"

"Charlie," his grip tightened around me to the point where I winced a bit.

Glancing back up at his grave face, I huffed and begrudgingly stated: "It's just the full moon. I'm fine."

"You sure?" he raised his brows at me, clearly not convinced and from the concentrated expression on his handsome face, I knew that he was listening to my erratic heartbeat. "Cause it's the first one without your, um, your medicine."

"It wasn't medicine," I shot back, mind traveling back to how my father used that term to feed me those pills. "It was poison. And trust me, I know…"

Knocking his hand off of me, I turned to march down the steps, but Derek put his muscular arm up and blocked my path.

Sighing in aggravation, I made a face up at him as he inquired with genuine worry: "How bad is it?"

"What? The withdrawal?" I asked testily, eyebrows arched as I sarcastically quipped: "Well besides the pounding headaches and fevers, constant urge to hurl my cookies, lack of appetite and sleep, and the nagging desire to rip peoples' throats out, I'd say I'm having a grand old time."

Staring down at me, I saw a sad look flash behind his usually inexpressive eyes, making me instantaneously grow uncomfortable.

I despised when people pitied me. It made me feel weaker than I already was.

"Am I gonna have another werewolf to chain up somewhere tonight?"

Blood beginning to boil, I couldn't hold my tongue as I narrowed my eyes and sharply stated: "You don't have a right to guilt me about my issues, Derek. And if you're so worried about taking care of my baggage on top of yours, maybe you shouldn't have gone around biting half the town."

Based on his speechless and somewhat hurt expression, I knew my harsh yet true words took my older cousin off guard, but I didn't care: "So can I go now? Cause I'd really like to clean up _your_ mess before the Argents get involved."

Ducking under his beefy arm, I then stomped down the steps, feeling so much ire pumping through my veins.

Where did he get off pretending to actually give a shit? I was finally trying to get clean and learn control. I was working to turn my life around, but obviously all Derek cared about was himself. My effort to get sober was simply bad timing in his eyes, cause if I had a slip up, he was gonna have to actually be there, if not for me than to save his own hide.

The Argents were up our asses and Gerard had just come to town, Lydia Martin's case was an unsolved and disturbing mystery, and Scott still needed a ton of training. It was a lot for all of us to deal with, but I had no sympathy for him. He shouldn't have bitten Jackson or turned Isaac if he couldn't handle it. Derek got himself into this entire mess, and now here he was, trying to belittle me?

Nails digging deeply into my palms as I balled my fists, I glowered ahead as Scott slowly moved about the damp basement.

"What happened down here?" he asked Derek, who had silently followed, his own pulse elevated slightly.

Good. I'm glad I got under his skin.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression," he replied firmly, avoiding my glares as McCall drifted over to a huge, unplugged freezer lying against the wall.

Hand hovering over it, I could see that Scott was sensing something, and from the look behind his chocolate eyes, I knew it couldn't be good.

"Open it," Derek coaxed the beta on.

Timidly gripping the handle, Scott then yanked the squeaking and heavy door open.

Eyes immediately widening in shock and horror at whatever he had found inside that crypt-like white box, Scott stammered with wide eyes: "T-this is why… this is why he said yes to you?"

Curiosity now outweighing my rage, I stepped forward to get a glimpse of what was so severely troubling McCall.

"Everyone wants power," Derek responded matter-of-factly.

Inching closer, I peered inside, only to find a tattered pillow, immediately making my heart break.

No… Mr. Lahey may have knocked his son around a little, but this… this was just too evil.

"If we help you, then you have to stop," Scott had walked over to where my cousin was watching on, arms crossed. "You can't just go around turning people into werewolves."

"I can if they're willing," was his careless response, but I barely paid him any mind, for soon my eyes caught the most upsetting of sights.

There, illuminated by the pale moonlight, were the deep and bloodstained marks of someone's nails on the back of the door, as if they had desperately tried to scratch their way out.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?" Scott's voice was shrill, but distant.

"Yes, and he still asked," Derek confirmed that Lahey had freely elected to join such a dreadful lifestyle.

"Then he's an idiot!"

Trembling hand stretching out, I could faintly hear Scott and my older cousin's argument, but the moment my long, delicate fingers gingerly touched the painful nail marks, visions of Isaac tearfully begging his father not to do this to him again, only to be chain in the claustrophobic freezer for hours, screaming and wailing in sheer terror, I became flooded with all of those emotions.

"And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter," my older cousin's voice sounded distorted as he continued to fight with my friend. "Yeah.

I know you're little secret, and if _I_ know, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find out?"

Pulling my hand away, I felt my chest tighten as all of Isaac's imprinted fear, pain, sorrow, stress, and loneliness all morphed onto an intense, overwhelming sensation of white-hot anger.

"You saw what happens to an omega. With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control… even on a full moon."

Eyes drifting up to the moon shining from the window, every cell in my body vibrated with wrath, my heart pounding so hard against my chest that I thought it would burst.

"If I'm with you, I lose her," Scott's voice was soft and almost melancholic.

"You're gonna lose her anyway. Deep down, you know that."

Still too engrossed in their quarrel to even notice the low, deep growls coming from my panting chest, McCall somberly dropped his voice: "I'm still not gonna be part of your pack, but I want him out. He's my responsibility too"

Vision fluctuating between color and black and white, I felt myself beginning to lose control.

"Why, because he's one of us?" Derek asked as I felt my fangs beginning to involuntarily descend.

"Because he's innocent," Scott stated firmly, basically swearing to help save Isaac's life and be my cousin's ally in the process.

Both wolves continuing to talk, whatever plan they were currently devising sounded like nothing but extremely indistinct and deep hums whilst I rushed past them, blurting out some lame excuse about getting sick.

Sprinting up the stairs, I ran into the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it behind me. Back pressed against the wooden door, I tried to slow my breathing down, placing my hands on my head.

"Come on, Charlie," I could hear how animalistic my voice sounded, "Get a grip."

Stumbling forward, my clawed hands gripped the sink so tightly that my knuckles turned white, but once I caught a glimpse of my icy, glowing blue eyes and ever growing fangs, felt my backbone and ribs crack.

Grunting in pain, I hunched over, sweat dripping from every pour as I resisted the intense instinct to shift.

You've resisted the alpha's call before. You've remained in control when Peter tried to make you kill Lydia… even though you're a delta.

Wrists suddenly contorting themselves into the most inhuman of shapes with a sickened snap, I bit my lip, puncturing the skin in an effort to stifle my howls of pain.

Gasping for air, I fell to my knees as my arms twisted into even more mangled shapes.

Tearful eyes drifting up to the moon shining down at me through the window, I could see it was almost at its peak, and if I didn't regain control soon, I'd fully shift.

Feeling hopeless, I immediately felt another wave of pain go throughout my entire body as my muscles ripped.

Clamping my eyes shut, I forced myself to heal back into human form rather than my wolf one, but the pain was immense.

I was well past booze and cigarettes, and I desperately wished for my pills.

How could I have thought a stupid exorcise routine would work on a full fricken moon? I was so stupid!

Neck cracking, I gasped in agony as I dug claws into the carpet, but as my pumping blood continued to stifle any other noises from inside the house, I suddenly heard Allison's distant, yet frantic voice.

"Scott! Scott, are you down here?" I heard her clamoring down the steps as my legs broke and realigned themselves.

Whimpering in pain, I tasted the blood on my lips and only felt the beast within me become even more savage.

"Scott, they were asking me about Lydia, and now… now they're going after Isaac," the brunette's strained voice was rushed.

"What? What do you mean?" McCall was fumbling around with some chains, clearly planning on locking himself inside that hellish freezer and immediately making me wish I had somewhere to go.

I was fighting a losing battle.

Without the drugs, without a proper anchor, it was hopeless, and as I heard the tendons in my abdomen tearing I buried my face in my hands and let out a gargled sob.

"Stiles and I, we figured out where the hunter was going…"

Stiles?

I… I made a promise to Stiles…

I couldn't give in. Not this easily. I hadn't gone through all of this just to give up…

Tortured body literally searing from where it lay on the floor in the most contorted of positions, I tried to think of what that dork kid would say to me right now.

He'd tell me to think about my mom and the necklace… but the necklace was gone.

Back twisting and fracturing again, I emitted a low cry of desperation.

What was I going to do?

"We slowed him down and I shot him in the leg, but he got away..."

Allison and Scott's conversation sounded like whispers compared to my ripping insides.

You need to calm down. You need to breathe and work through the pain, Charlie.

You don't have the necklace for a reason. You needed a fresh start, so you need a new anchor.

Think.

Think about what makes you feel human.

But as I stared down at my hands halfway shifted from human to wolf, I truly believed there was not enough humanity in me left.

"And I came straight here to help you."

"Allison," I could hear the pain in Scott's own voice, the full moon now taking a hold over him as well. "Where is he? Where's Stiles?"

All of a sudden, everything went silent as every cell in my body froze.

_Where was Stiles?_

Pain slowly slipping away, my mind was now racing with an overbearing sense of panic.

_Where was Stiles?_

Looking back up at the full moon, my brain was swirling with all that could go wrong tonight.

Isaac was going to shift and possibly break free. Some hunter was out for blood. The Argents were hell-bent on bringing down Derek and anyone associated with him. Some unknown, dangerous beast had just killed Mr. Lahey, only to roam free in Beacon Hills. And now Scott and I were about to lose control?

No.

I couldn't let that happen.

_Where was Stiles?_

Slowly rising, I dragged myself out of the bathroom and limped my way towards the basement, feeling my bones slowly going back into their rightful places, and as I forced myself down the steps, vision still in black and white, I rounded the corner to see Scott hunched over and a worried Allison beside him.

"Are you sure you have to do this?" she whispered, staring down at the massive chains in her delicate hands.

"Allison, please," he beseeched her. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Soon, however, their tender moment was interrupted by my presence, for as I heaved my aching, half-shifted body closer, the lovers looked up.

"C-Charlie," the brunette's aghast voice was now beyond worried, her heart thumping wildly. "Are… are you okay?"

"Where's Stilinski?" I asked in a deep, beastlike snarl, ignoring her question.

Wide eyes taking in my deformed features, Scott's still human eyes hovered over my bloody fangs and dangerous, glowing blue eyes.

"Charlie, we need to get you somewhere…"

"Where's Stiles?" my voice shook furiously, as I continued to step closer and closer to them.

Now hopping up, McCall's own sweating and pain-filled form moved protectively in front of his secret girlfriend, obviously fearful that I was some sort of threat, and based on how I probably looked, I couldn't blame him.

"Charlie, you need to back up," I watched as he, himself, was struggling so much to keep from shifting.

"Just tell me where he is," I spoke slowly, suddenly feeling my claws retracting as the couple timidly watched on.

"He's… he's at the police station," Allison spoke up, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"_Alone_?" I asked, voice strained. "Where they're keeping Isaac? On his first full moon?"

Unsure of how to respond, Allison opened her mouth, most likely to apologize, but as they saw my fangs disappear and once wide, blue eyes return to their haunting gray hue, the tense lovers eased up.

Body flooding with terror, I paced about, no longer even concerned about losing control.

"How long's it been?" I demanded, turning back to face the gaping couple.

What the Hell were they staring at?

"How long's he been there alone?" I repeated myself more crossly, growing sicker by the moment.

If Scott and I were all ready having trouble, God only knew what state Isaac was in.

"I… I don't know, ten minutes?" the brunette ventured a guess whilst she continued to stare at me with the most intrigued of expressions.

Ignoring their irritating looks and trying not to let her thoughtlessness work me up even more, I then ran an anxious hand threw my hair and glanced at Scott's poor state.

"Right. Lock him in there, stay here, and call me if anything happens," I authoritatively directed the brunette, before wheeling around and rushing towards the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Scott's own voice was now much gruffer and deeper.

"The station!"

And with that, I sprinted the fastest I ever had in my entire life, my mind no longer plagued with thoughts of the full moon, for I was far too preoccupied with getting to that annoying dweeb with caramel eyes before anything could happen to him.

* * *

><p>Every muscle in my legs stung and as I bound from tree to tree, my lungs ached, but I didn't care.<p>

I could see the block for the police precinct quickly approaching, and as I leapt from branch to branch, I kept my ears peeled for any suspicious noises.

I was fully aware of everything that I was doing and feeling. My black and white vision was crystal clear, my heart rate, though accelerated, was even, and every powerful move I made was strategic, as if my body physically knew where my destination was.

My instincts had taken over, but rather than being terrified or overpowered by them, I actually felt in sync and balanced. It was the first time I had total control over my abilities, as if every sense was heightened but not actually hindering my ability to think, and it was empowering.

Catching a whiff of that familiar sweet minty scent, however, my rare sense of optimism was quickly reduced to nothing but straight panic. Stiles was close, but I still couldn't hear him.

Adrenaline pumping, I tried my hardest not to think the worst.

He was fine. He was always fine.

But as my thoughts turned back to whatever current unstable state Isaac was most likely in, my body just moved that much quicker.

Then, I caught the voice I was so desperate to hear.

"Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office," I let out an audible sigh of relief once his words reached my ears. "The problem is getting past the front desk."

He was alive. Stiles was alive!

Then, however, I heard whom the dork was talking to and my body tensed right back up.

"I'll distract her," came my older cousin's voice.

Racing through the treetops, I shredded any branches or leaves with my razor sharp claws, tunnel vision focused only on the quickly approaching police station.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stilinski's voice was slightly alarmed. "You? You're not going in there…"

"I was exonerated," Derek gave his weak argument, only making me mentally agree more with Stiles' response.

"You're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person."

Hearing his loud, mocking snorts, Stilinski retorted: "_You_? Yeah right." But based on my older cousin's pounding heart, I could tell he didn't appreciate the teenager's reaction. "O-okay, fine," Stiles' voice was a bit more timid, but he soon recovered his nerve: "What's your plan?"

"To distract her," my older cousin answered simply whilst the blue Jeep sitting idly in the parking lot finally came into view.

"Ugh-huh," I could hear the skepticism dripping off the lanky kid's words. "How? By punching her in the face?"

Letting out a fake laugh, Derek then quickly snapped: "No. By talking to her."

"All right," Stilinski sighed. "Give me a sample. What're you gonna open with?"

Dead silence.

"That should work beautifully," Stiles' sarcasm was the next thing I heard, causing me to assume that my cousin was being as reassuring as ever. "Any other ideas?"

Reaching the nearest tree to the property, I quickly leapt down and landed effortlessly in stride.

"I'm thinking about punching _you_ in the face," Derek's tone was more thoughtful than threatening, but I could still hear Stiles' elevated pulse and anxious gulp.

Walking quickly through the shadowy lot, I then saw Derek exit the Jeep and head over to the station, only for Stiles to clumsily tumble out of the vehicle and scramble after him.

Catching up with the pale nerd within seconds, I was soon peeking in through the window at my older cousin beginning to sweet talk the lovely Deputy Graeme.

"H-how can I help you?" a small smirk was plastered on her lips.

"Hi," Derek flashed his adorably dimpled and beyond flirtatious grin. "Um, I had a question."

"This should be good," I muttered under my breath, practically sending the unsuspecting teenager out of his own skin.

Eyes wide and tumbling backward, he let out a strangled yelp of surprise, having not noticed my presence until that moment.

Though once he had registered that those eerie, glowing blue eyes belonged to me, Stiles' humorously startled expression morphed into a highly irritated one.

"That's not funny," he grumbled from the ground scoldingly, but I just continued to giggle at him as he got back up and brushed himself off.

"I think it is," my claws and fangs finally contracted, my body finally easing up now that I was here to make sure nothing could harm the hyperactive boy.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he demanded, still a bit sour as we turned to look back into the police station.

"You really want Derek as your only back-up?" I cocked a brow, voice lazy as my vision reverted back into color.

Puckering his lips a bit whilst he thought for a moment, Stiles then nodded in agreement over how true my statement was, but once we heard my older cousin continuing to charm the young African American police officer, I grabbed the distracted teen and dragged him to the front doors of the precinct.

"Ugh, sorry," Derek chuckled a bit. "I'm a little… I'm a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone…"

"Like me?" she cut him off with a slightly apprehensive tone.

Entering through the doors, I seized our opening and pushed my awkward companion in before me, but once I stepped into full view, Derek's calm green eyes seemed to flash a bit with both alarm and annoyance.

Displaying a large smile, I sardonically held up two thumbs, silently encouraging him to continue his performance.

Eyes begrudgingly darting back over to the young deputy's patiently awaiting face, Derek's momentarily faltered smirk gleamed brilliantly once again as he laid it on thick: "Oh, I was gonna say 'so incredibly beautiful' but, yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing."

Sniggering under my breath, I shook my head and turned back to follow the least stealthy person I had ever met doing some outlandish spy move as he slipped inside his father's office.

Rolling my eyes as he urgently waved at me to hurry up, I casually strolled in and closed the door behind me, knowing full well that acting casually would help us stay under the radar more than acting like some silly dancing monkey.

Now somewhat bored after the recent rush of excitement tracking down the dweeby human, I crossed my arms and peered around the untidy office whilst Stiles punched in the passcode.

How the Hell could the sheriff find anything in this mess?

"Ugh, Charlie," Stiles' cracking voice made me look over. "I-I, um, I think we have a problem."

And as I took in his wide eyes and racing heart, I saw what had Stilinski so nervous: the keys were missing.

* * *

><p>A tad grumpy that we could never seem to catch a break, I followed my nose and soon found a light trail of blood leading down the dimly lit corridor.<p>

Glancing back at my anxious partner, I saw his face drop even more.

"He's all ready here…"

"Who's here?" I whispered back, suddenly becoming more edgy than grouchy.

"The hunter Allison shot in the leg," he responded, recalling just how the two humans had slowed the guy down.

Normally I would have laughed over the idea of some stupid hunter getting an arrow in the leg, but right now, the situation had just escalated into something way more worrisome than I originally anticipated, and after glancing at one another for a split-second, Stiles and I hesitantly followed the trail.

Heart pounding, I tried to listen for the man's undoubtedly painful grunts, for the amount of blood on the floor led me to conclude that the wound was quite bad, but as we rounded the corner, completely distracted, we bumped right into another cop.

"Whoa, ugh, sorry," Stiles apologized, having run right into the unhappy man's chest. "We're just looking for..."

However his words soon trailed off, for once his caramel eyes drifted down to the syringe containing an unsettling yellow liquid, all the boy could do was mutter: "Oh, shit."

Taking a fearful step back as the hunter dressed as a deputy reached for some weapon, I quickly pushed my way forward and kick the small stub of the arrow still embedded in the man's leg.

Letting out a loud howl of pain, I then grabbed Stiles by the shirt collar and gruffly pushed him ahead of me, commanding: "Run."

Nodding vehemently, Stilinski slipped a bit and took off with me close at his heels.

I could hear the hunter getting up, and as we rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of him quickly approaching.

"We need to get to Isaac," I reminded the racing boy, my voice was more panicked than I wanted it to sound, but once we quite clearly heard the loud grunts of the lethal man gaining on us, Stiles yanked the fire alarm and shouted: "Over here!"

Practically diving inside the room with the holding cells, we were then met with an even more disturbing sight: the door to cell B was dented and kicked open, the heavy metal just barely hanging on by its hinges.

Stunned, the two of us just stood there dumbly for a second or two, and as we looked wildly around for any sign of Isaac, there was a loud crash behind us.

Spinning around, we then saw the new, fully shifted and completely enraged werewolf knock the hunter out with ease, stomping on the wolfsbane filled needle and shattering it.

And as a panting Lahey slowly turned, his blazing yellow eyes fixated on us like a hungry predator, I stepped protectively in front of my human friend and pushed him to the ground.

With Stiles sliding safely away, I heard him scramble behind some desk as Isaac and I circled and sized one another up.

"Isaac," I spoke slowly and dangerously, my claws coming out in preparation for the inevitable fight. "Don't make me do this," I warned.

Looking directly into his beastlike yellow eyes, I knew there was no reasoning with the wolf, for I saw no semblance of a conscious Isaac Lahey in there.

He was too far gone.

Within a split second, Lahey and I had launched ourselves at one another, claws out and fangs gnashing.

Crashing down to the floor, I felt Isaac's large, muscular body pinning me down, but as I glared up at his black and white, furry face, I decked him square in the nose and threw him off with ease.

Landing right on top of the desk where Stiles was hiding behind, Isaac's deadly gaze landed on the petrified kid's face.

"Whoa," Stilinski yelped, ducking just in time as the new werewolf's claw swiped at his face.

Gripping the beta by his ankles, I tore him off the desk, sending him flying into the all ready dented cell door.

Quickly checking to see that Stiles was still unharmed, I caught him crab-crawling backwards, mouth slightly opened, but once his caramel eyes widened, the panting teen yelped out: "Charlie!"

Wheeling around, I had no time to react as Isaac barreled right through me, knocking all the air from my lungs. Body slamming right into the wall, I immediately saw spots from how hard the blow was, and in my brief moment of dazed weakness, Lahey lifted his hand and prepared to strike his lethal blow, but as his clawed hand lingered above my head, a loud, wall-rattling roar sounded.

Instantly shrinking back and cupping his ears, Isaac cowered in the corner as a fully shifted Derek stepped into the room, bearing his fangs and eyes that frightening blood-red hue.

Wincing from where I stood, propped up against the cracked wall, I felt every inch of me shaking from the deafening sound, and as I rolled my stiff neck, I watched on as Isaac immediately turned from ravenous to docile.

"H-how'd you do that?" Stilinski asked, standing up, his eyes wide and face stunned yet relieved.

Smugly staring down as Isaac's meek and trembling form, Derek then turned to look at the dorky teen standing beside me with an almost gloating look whilst his deep voice stated powerfully: "I'm the alpha."

He certainly loved his newfound abilities, didn't he?

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't help be a bit irreverent as I hissed: "Was that really necessary?"

Turning from where he was still towering over the intimidated new beta, Derek shot me a look.

"Cause howling like that's really helping us keep a low profile," I continued to critique his irrational and impulsive plan. "The whole county probably heard you!"

"And if the cops came in and saw two brawling werewolves, that would be so much better," he shot back, gruffly grabbing Isaac and yanking the still shifted werewolf to his feet.

"I had it under control," I growled, eyes narrowed, but soon the only human in the room stepped up and stated: "Whatever, can we just get him out of here?"

Shooting Stilinski a somewhat stormy look, Derek was most likely about to say something threatening, but when I moved forward, now fully human, I cut him off: "He's right."

"I am?" Stiles sounded just as surprised as my sour older cousin looked.

Ignoring him, I continued with crossed arms: "Your charges aren't dropped yet and Isaac needs to disappear until we can prove he's innocent."

Opening his mouth to argue, my cousin and I suddenly heard the sound of Stiles' father entering the station and calling for the deputy, whom Derek undoubtedly knocked out during his unnecessary rush to help me detain his newest little pet.

"Get out of here," I barked urgently, once we heard the sheriff's quickly approaching steps bounding down the hallway. "Now!"

Turning and practically dragging the still trembling beta away behind him, Stiles and I only managed to exchange nervous looks before Sheriff Stilinski came dashing into the room.

Breathless and heart racing, the worried man's wide green eyes scanned the destroyed room, landing on the unconscious mystery cop, the empty holding cell with a broken door, and two awkward teenagers staring blankly back at him, oddly untouched by the chaos.

Deafening alarm finally shutting off, I speechlessly stared at the completely astonished man, but as the sheriff opened his mouth to speak, his overly energetic son blurted out with a high-pitched voice, fingers pointed at the still knocked out hunter: "Ugh, he did it!"

* * *

><p>Sheriff Stilinski questioned Stiles and me for 30 minutes, only to then lecture us another hour for being, once again, somewhere that we knew we shouldn't. Needless to say, by the time we got back home, we were exhausted.<p>

Dragging our tired bodies up the porch steps, we said goodnight to an equally drained, but mostly vexed Mr. Stilinski, but when we heard his bedroom door close and the slow, even breaths of his restful sleep, did Stiles and I finally feel safe enough to talk about this evening's events.

"Well that went surprisingly well," Stiles sighed, plopping down on his bed, rubbing his tired eyes.

Glancing back at him from the collection of movies that I was skimming, I raised my brows and responded dryly: "That, in your book, is going well?"

Pulling out my movie for the night, I turned back around as Stilinski responded thoughtfully: "No one died or got seriously hurt and Isaac got away with Derek… which I'm still not sure whether that's necessarily a good thing… but I'll take it," he listed off, but once his caramel eyes landed on the zombie flic in my hands, the dorky teen asked: "That's what you wanna watch before bed?"

"We both know I'm not gonna get much sleep tonight," I stated grimly before glancing down at the extremely gory photo on the DVD case and shrugging lazily: "Besides, I like horror movies."

"Why?" he asked, shaking his head, as if unable to fathom my admiration of that particular genre. "We got enough monsters running around Beacon Hills lately, don't you think?"

Taking his very truthful words into consideration, I then nodded and offered with crooked grin: "Yeah, well we only got werewolves… which are kinda boring compared to flesh-eating zombies."

Expression one of awe over how casual I was, Stiles muttered: "You're twisted."

"I prefer the term unique," I quipped lightly, yawning as I asked: "Wanna watch?"

Making a face, Stilinski quickly glanced at the clock which read '2:35 am'.

"I don't know, I'm kind of tired," he must have caught my yawn, for soon he was stretching his arms out and letting out the loudest one I had ever heard.

"Oh please, like you're ever tired," I cocked my head to the side, arms crossed.

"Not all of us are nocturnal, Charlie," he complained, only to scoldingly add: "And some of us want to do well in Marson's quiz tomorrow."

Truth be told, I didn't want to be alone tonight. Beyond feeling extremely sick all day and still feeling the effects of the full moon, I had that familiar, foreboding sensation creeping up on me, as if me body could sense another hallucination approaching.

I felt drained and the air hung heavy around me, and since I couldn't drink or smoke or take any pills, I needed a distraction.

Deciding not to take 'no' for an answer, I walked over to the grumpy kid's TV and popped the movie in anyway.

Ignoring his grumbling words of protest, I hit play and sassily said: "Quit whining. Just take an extra Adderall in the morning and you'll be fine. Anyway, you can think of this as a review for the history quiz."

Taking the remote and fast-forwarding through the previews, I retreated back to his bed and shooed at him to scoot over whilst he stated in exasperation: "This doesn't even relate to World War II."

Sitting in his large, comfy bed next to him, I innocently replied: "There's Nazis in this."

"Yeah," Stiles voice was a bit strained, "_Zombie _Nazis…"

Unable to hide how entertaining I found his irritated reactions, a playful grin flashed across my face as I leaned back against the massive sea of pillows, made myself comfortable, and jovially responded: "So it's a loose interpretation… but it's still relevant."

Merely staring at me with the most frustrated of expressions, I only smiled that much brighter, and soon Stilinski let out a deep, surrendering sigh while he fell back against the pillows beside me.

"Fine," he muttered, yanking the remote from my hands, "but we're watching the previews then."

Letting out a light laugh, I simply shook my head and asked: "Don't tell me you're one of _those_ people…"

"I don't care what anyone says," he stated somewhat defensively, "the trailers are the best part."

Taking in how absolutely serious the dork was, I only giggled even more, causing him to cross his arms and grumble at me to stop.

Trying to stifle my laughs, I only lasted a moment or two before loud snorts came bursting out of my mouth, and as he looked down at my hysterical face, even Stiles had to chuckle.

And after a few minutes of laughter, we finally settling down a bit and watched the various horror movie previews in all their bloody glory.

Soon enough, silence fell, but then Stilinski slowly ventured: "So how long's it been?"

Confused, I furrowed my brows and asked: "What?"

"Since you slept," he clarified, eyes fixated on the TV rather than my currently uneasy face, which I very much appreciated.

"I don't know," I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I, ugh, I guess since formal."

Caramel eyes widening, Stiles looked down at me with both dismay and concern, which only made me look away and shift in discomfort.

"That was over a week ago," he stated the obvious.

"It's not a big deal," I tried to brush it off, not ready to talk about those horrific breaks from reality that had been plaguing me since that night. "It's just from the withdrawal, but it should get better soon."

I could my own heartbeat quicken with those words, but I just hoped that my lie sounded more convincing to his ears than my own.

Truth be told, I had zero clue what was happening to me.

Sure I was chalking it up to my withdrawal, but for a werewolf, my symptoms should have been lessening by now, and although I could feel the severity of those physical ailments easing up, the delusions were only getting worse.

Still intently watching me, an unconvinced Stilinski remained quiet, causing me to fill the uncomfortable silence with another reassuring fib: "Seriously, the full moon's over tonight and things should get back to normal."

However with the mention of the full moon, Stiles and I immediately sat up, eyes wide and hearts now racing. Looking at one another in panic, I knew that we both had realized that we never checked our phones to see how Scott had made out.

Feeling absolutely horrible, for I had personally seen just how much McCall was struggling earlier that evening, and as we both whipped out our cells at the exact same time, we were met with an unsettling sight indeed.

4 missed calls from Allison. 5 from Scott with one voicemail, and as Stiles and I glanced at one another in trepidation, the boy with flushed cheeks shakily pressed 'play'.

Stomach in knots, I mentally prayed to God that they were okay, and once we heard both teenagers' voices, my companion and I let out sighs of relief.

However, that alleviation only lasted for a split second for what we heard immediately introduced us to something even more worrisome.

_"Stiles! Are you with Charlie? You both aren't answering us, but when you get this, you need to call us back. Something broke in the house,"_ Scott's voice was panicked, and I could hear Allison's quick breaths as she piped up: "_It wasn't a werewolf. We… we don't know what it was, but it was big."_

Holding our breath, Stiles and I could only stare at one another anxiously as Scott quickly added: "_I scared it away, but it took off and we don't know where it went, so if you two are okay, you need to call us back, man. We think its…"_

Then, the voicemail cut off, and although we knew that our friends were alive and relatively well, this report of some new unknown beast in Beacon Hills was enough to put us on edge.

And as we sat there, silently processing the troubling message we had just heard, Stiles finally dialed his best friend's number and turned to me, grimly stating: "Only werewolves, huh?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! Next update! This one's pretty long and I added a lot of my own content (mostly to capture my OC's relationship with a certain sheriff that we all know and love and Greenberg)! **

**also, special thanks to my PM-ers and reviewers: ****Sierra Weasley, EmeraldGrey22, Heather, High Serpent King, cecld16, DarlingPeterPan**

**and thank you to my new followers and favoriters! thanks for reading!**

**okay, soooo im kinda tired so here's the next chapter. song was inspired by ****The Hawk in Paris' "FREAKS"**** (I imagined it when a new, blonde bombshell beta struts her stuff in the cafeteria) - the 8tracks will be up by chapter 7, I promise!**

**anyways... read away and since last chapter only got 4 reviews, i'm assuming it was sub-par, so if you guys like this chapter, love it, hate it, have suggestions, or ****_anything _****PLEASE REVIEW! its the only way my writing/story-telling will get better. i want this story as enjoyable for yall as possible! okay, shutting up now :) **

**PS: HAPPPY HALLOWEEEEEEN**

FIVE: FREAKS

My eyes were tearing and my soot-filled lungs ached. The deafening roar of the intense flames whipping about could barely cover the shrill, blood curtailing screams of my burning relatives.

I sprinted as fast as my little legs could take me, running from the death and destruction, running from the chaos, running from the pain.

My cheek stun from Cora's claws, and my scratched up and blistering bare feet felt frozen and chapped, but I didn't care.

I heard the hunters' shouts close behind me, and I knew that I needed to shift in order to outrun them, but when I tried, nothing happened.

What was going on? Why couldn't I turn?

Fear and panic setting in, I glanced behind me, my tearful vision catching the image of five blurry figures moving about the thick, black smoke.

Five? I could have sworn there were only three…

Too preoccupied by my assailants, I suddenly tumbled down the deep ditch, and as my body hurtled down, I landed in the stream behind my burning house.

However, rather than landing in that cool, crystal clear water, my trembling body was now drenched in the most revolting and thick, gloppy black liquid.

Freaking out as I splashed around the shallow and murky water, I felt my breathing becoming more and more erratic, but before I could even get up, I heard the loud, echoing howls of a pack of wild beasts just ahead of me.

Wiping the black mud from my eyes, I looked up and saw those five, monstrous and shadowy figures watching me, their glowing red eyes menacing and murderous, but instead of continuing to chase me, they just stood there, intently focused on my terrified form.

Suddenly, though, I realized that I was drifting away, and as my frantic eyes darted about, I saw that the stream had grown into an immense, black river flowing right to a massive whirlpool.

Flailing about, I tried to find something to grab onto as my weak body was gradually being sucked away, but it was too late. The current was strong and my body was gaining momentum, and as I felt myself being sucked into the powerful, seemingly bottomless vortex, I let out a choked shout.

Down and around, down and around I fell, holding my breath as I went underneath the oily and slick surface, and as I was pulled deeper and deeper, I felt my brain slowly being deprived of all oxygen.

My vision was going dim, my lungs screaming as I felt myself blacking out. Body floating down and reaching the bottom of the riverbed, I closed my eyes, content with giving up, but the moment I prepared to let my lungs fill up and suffocate with that black goop, something changed.

I gasped, voice raspy and rough as I coughed and sputtered. Dripping wet and beyond freezing, my eyes popped open and I saw a brilliant starry sky above me. Still choking, I tried to roll over but found I couldn't.

Dazed and confused, I looked around and found that thick vines, which were covered with small, slowly blooming purple flowers, tightly restrained my arms and legs.

Then, the pain started to kick in.

My sensitive skin bubbled and seared as the toxic plant continued to tighten around my limbs, and as I watched the wolfsbane flowers flourish and grow around my agonizing body, I cried out in pain.

Writhing about, I gritted my teeth and tried with all my might to break free, but it was no use, for the harder I pulled, the more constricting those vines became.

Feeling hopeless, I called out for help, but my voice barely sounded louder than a horse whisper.

"I told you I'd find you," an unnervingly familiar male voice whispered menacingly.

Instantaneously thrashing against those organic and painful restraints, I ignored the stinging of my raw skin and looked wildly around, finally realizing that I was lying smack in the center of the largest tree stump I had ever seen. There was at least four feet of dead, flat bark around me, and every time I shook, the dead, rotten wood would crack, causing sharp barbs to dig into my body.

"You can't run from me," the shadowy man stepped forward, barely visible under the moonless sky, however I could just barely see his cane. "Just like you can't run from yourself."

"What do you want from me?" I barked aggressively, still squirming around violently.

Slowly starting to circle me, the faint 'tick' of the cane was his only response.

My heart was thumping wildly and my entire body was now in agony. Watery eyes gazing back up at the sky, I observed that those stars were now moving, slowly inching closer to one another as they, too, began circling above me.

"Answer me!" I shouted furiously, trying to mask my distress with anger.

"You know what I want," his animalistic voice spoke evenly.

"Just let me go!" my voice cracked once I saw him approaching. "Let me go!"

"Not until you admit it," his tone was light and almost mocking.

"Admit what?" I couldn't help but sound as weak and pathetic as I currently felt, and as the vines continued to snake around my body, I felt sharp shocks shoot all over my skin.

"What you really are," his voice suddenly began to change.

Whimpering in pain, I watched on in horror as the man's cane morphed into a large, sharp sword.

"W-who are you?" I croaked, voice trembling.

"You're retribution," I could hear the menacing smirk behind his voice.

Completely terrified, I tried to break free once again, but soon those thick, prickling vines wrapped around my neck, forcing me to lie still as the mysterious man continued to inch closer.

Desperate tears now streaking down my dirtied face, I felt my esophagus slowly being crushed, and as each breath became more strenuous to take, the pain from the poisonous wolfsbane grew duller and duller.

"You're a killer," he whispered, his voice now sounded croakier and older.

"No," I gasped, "No. I-I can… I can change."

Vision becoming hazy, I saw the man step up onto the large tree trunk, but I was too tired and drained to fight anymore.

"You can't," he stepped over me, his beady little black eyes twinkling.

My own eyes widening, my heart then stopped once I focused on the twisted and snarling face of Gerard Argent, sneering down at me.

"You can try, but we both know that you'll fail," his voice was calm and flat.

"No," I tried to shake my head, feeling the plant tighten even more, causing me to begin choking.

"Yes," he grinned that much wider, but instead of having human teeth, the old man revealed a row of razor sharp fangs. "Because deep down inside, you're a monster."

"I'm… not!" I tried to shout, but only gagged syllables came out.

"Oh, but I think you are," he almost cooed, watching my eyes slowly rolling to the back of my head from oxygen depravation. "And when you kill again, when you give in to those urges, there'll be no turning back…"

Words bouncing around my head, my eyes landed on the swirling lights above, finally recognizing that they weren't stars at all.

They were fireflies.

Hundreds upon hundreds of fireflies, and they were zooming above us in a massive pack, rushing in circles and slowly descending downward.

"The darkness will take over, and you'll relish in it," his black eyes gradually began to change color.

Trying to speak, I only sputtered some more, mouth now open like a fish on the deck, gasping for air.

"You'll relish in the power, the control," a red hue grew within his irises, and as they began to glow, I stared at the quickly plunging fireflies, but rather than flickering white and yellow lights, they had an eerie, green tint to them.

Unable to breathe anymore, I felt my face turning blue, and as Gerard uttered the words I so dreaded to hear, that disturbing hoard of sickly fireflies raced towards my open mouth.

"You'll slaughter and tear them all apart. Everyone you care about. Everyone who trusts you."

Tears streaking down my cheeks as my vision dimmed and brain gradually shut down, he bent down and whispered in my ear, eyes twinkling bright, bloody red: "Derek, Scott, and Allison. Pretty little Lydia... even Greenberg."

"No…" my woeful words were barely even audible, as the buzzing bugs now hovered just above my head, as if waiting to strike.

"The Sheriff, Danny, Isaac… all of them," my mouth now hung open as I lay there limply, heart barely beating. "And yes, Charlie, even your precious Stiles won't survive."

And just as my heart ripped into two, I opened my mouth to let out one last, enraged shout of passionate protest, only for the entire mass of green-glowing fireflies to ram themselves down my throat.

* * *

><p>Shooting up, hacking my lungs out as Gerard's maniacal laughter continued to echo in my ringing ears, I sat in Stiles' bed, body drenched in sweat.<p>

Gasping for air, I quickly wiped the tears from my damp face and tried to catch my breath. Looking around, I sat the still pleasantly unaware and calm Stilinski snoring beside me, his mouth wide open and head hanging off the side of the bed.

Rubbing my bleary eyes with my still trembling hands, I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 5 am.

Stiles and I had spent most of the night talking on the phone with Scott, theorizing any possible explanation for the mysterious monster that had shown itself to the young beta and huntress at the Lahey household, only to start doing some research of our own.

Having had fallen asleep during our investigation, the laptop still sat on the dorky kid's lap, currently in sleep mode. Shutting it, I slowly stood up, feeling beyond agitated as I placed the device back on his desk.

I was absolutely shaken by the nightmare, for although I had had visions and horrible dreams before, it never felt so personal.

Exhausted and almost empty at this point, I shuffled my way out of the eccentric kid's bedroom, stealing one last look at the loudly snoring teen before closing the door behind me.

Telling myself to just shake it off, I quickly threw on a pair of black compression shorts and one of Stiles' old Beacon Hills lacrosse t-shirts. Slipping on my sneakers and grabbing my iPod, I then pressed 'play' and headed out for my routine morning run through the woods.

So used to the house being empty at this time, I dashed down the steps without a second thought, but as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I bumped right into Sheriff Stilinski.

Stumbling backwards and still on edge, I couldn't help but yelp, and as I took in the equally startled man's face, I pulled out my ear-buds and breathlessly apologized: "Mr. Stilinski… I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you."

Eyeing my headphones, which were vibrating from the blaring music, the dog-tired man with graying light brown hair raised his brows and responded: "I can't imagine why."

Grinning a bit, I finally noticed that he was back in his uniform, causing me to give him a curious look.

"Aren't you supposed to be off this morning?" I asked, observing the large bags under his lovely, pale green eyes.

Rubbing his face with a heavy sigh, he nodded and responded dryly: "Yeah, well when a murder suspect goes missing, the schedules get a little tighter."

I felt horrible for the guy. He hadn't been able to catch a break since my family got back to this crummy town, and knowing that I was part of the reason why Sheriff Stilinski was going to be even more over-worked and sleep deprived, well… let's just say I was feeling enormously guilty.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, changing the subject as he went back to brewing some coffee.

"I, ugh, I've been going for runs every morning," I shared somewhat shyly, mostly from not being used to having an adult actually caring about what I was doing with my free time. "You know, around the block, in the woods…"

Turning to face me, Stiles' father smiled in approval: "That's great to hear. A lot of kids your age don't have that type of discipline."

Not wishing to portray myself as anything that I wasn't, I muttered: "Yeah, well it helps with my stress, so…"

Expression changing into one of sympathy, the sheriff cleared his throat and began: "Is that, ugh, is that something Ms. Morrell advised you to try?"

Obviously knowing that he was skirting around the subject of forcing me into therapy, I tried to hide my slight resentment for the man overstepping his boundaries as I simply responded: "Actually, your son suggested it."

"Oh," he turned back to what he was doing, and I could hear his slightly elevated heart rate. "Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about this whole counseling thing," he sounded almost tentative.

Remaining silent, I watched the man fix his extra large cup of coffee and gave him time to think of what he wanted to say.

It was funny. He and Stiles made the same exact face when they were trying so hard to make a stressful discussion a bit lighter, and although I was still slightly pissed off at the old guy for forcing me into student advising, I couldn't help but feel a small grin spread across my lips.

"I know I'm not your father or a relative or anything like that," he started rather stiffly, eyes fixated on the steaming coffee swirling in his mug. "And I understand I'm only your temporary guardian until Derek's charges are officially dropped, but," he stopped, brows furrowed whilst he tried to find the best way of phrasing whatever was on his mind. "But you're just so young, and you've been through so much. I've seen plenty of kids go down the wrong path and throw everything away because of their past and it's usually because they don't have anyone there to look out for them... to keep them on the right track."

Gazing steadily as Mr. Stilinski continued to look anywhere but my face, I felt my heart swell. This man truly cared, and even though I couldn't quite understand how he could be so fond of someone as broken as me, I also couldn't deny how nice it felt.

Sure, he was overstepping his bounds, but he also understood that. He simply thought rubbing me the wrong way and becoming the enemy for a little while was worth helping to save me in the long run. To John Stilinski, and apparently his son, I wasn't such a lost cause.

"And Charlie, it's only temporary," he finally faced me, his voice reassuring. "I just… I just see so much potential in you and it would be a shame for you to throw it all away because you've gotten the short end of the stick."

Hearing his uneven heartbeat, I could see just how uncomfortable the sheriff was discussing such sensitive matters, which only made me appreciate his statement that much more. Very much like me, Mr. Stilinski was a person of few words, preferring to keep his emotions to himself and show affection through actions, if at all; so for him to not only stand here and explain why he did what he did, but to confess his own feelings towards me, I was quite stunned myself.

No one had ever been so supportive and honest with me since my mother and Aunt Talia. Sure, Laura was a wonderful mentor, but that was exactly what she was. A mentor. Not a caregiver. Not a maternal figure. There was no tenderness or comforting involved… just instruction and training, with barely any moral guidance. And here was some man, whom I had only known for a matter of months, who took me in, sheltered me, and now was even looking out for my future, for he truly believed I actually had one.

"You're a smart girl, I mean… you're a smart young woman," he continued to spurt out his rushed word vomit, again, reminding me of his son. "And…"

"Mr. Stilinski," I finally cut him off, catching the man almost sighing in relief for my interruption. "I get it."

"You do?" he asked with arched brows and a pleasantly surprised expression, clearly expecting some hormonal, over-sensitive teenage response to being forced into counseling.

"I know I've been skipping school a lot and getting into trouble, and I'm sorry if I've been a hassle," I apologized sincerely, understanding quite well how much the sheriff had on his plate with taking care of the county and his hand-full of a son, let alone taking in some delinquent orphan.

"You're just acting like a normal teenager," John reassured me, now easing up quite a bit as he sipped his morning cup-o-Joe. "But I also wanted to make sure that while you figure everything out, you won't jeopardize your future, because you were quite close to being held back…"

"Or expelled," I spoke over his more stern words. "I know."

Giving me a somewhat curt nod, I could tell that Mr. Stilinski was content with the conversation, feeling that he and I were at an understanding, and as I put my headphones back in and headed towards the front door, I paused.

"Mr. Stilinski?" I asked over my shoulder.

"John," he corrected me, barely looking up from the morning paper he was now skimming.

"John," I smiled, mostly to myself, before softly stating: "Thank you."

And before the sheriff, who was now looking up at me with the oddest, yet affectionate of gazes, could utter a word, I slipped out of the house, blasting my music, and running for the longest and hardest training session I had thus far.

* * *

><p>Propped up against the red padded wall of the gymnasium, I stood off to the side of as my entire, giddy class crowded around the large rock wall Coach Finstock had set up.<p>

Trying to ignore the obnoxiously loud, excited voices assaulting my eardrums, I focused on counting the ceiling tiles and continued to comb over what this new, mysterious creature could be.

It wasn't a werewolf, that we knew for sure, and Allison said that it had a tail. It stood both on all fours, as well as its hind legs, and moved much stealthier than anything the couple had ever seen before. But what really had me stumped was the throaty noise McCall stated it made. He said it was low, raspy noise, similar to a hiss or buzzing sound.

I always knew that werewolves weren't the only things that went bump in the night, and I had grown up hearing stories of the numerous creatures out there. I had even seen a wendigo and werecoyote in my time, but something fitting Scott and Allison's description… something like that sounded as far-fetched to me as hearing that the couple met a vampire.

"Good morning," Allison was oddly chipper, but after spotting a faint, just combed out hickey on her neck, it was safe to assume her and her secret boyfriend had recently spent some 'quality' time together.

"Morning," I gave my own, cranky response, still feeling the effects of the withdrawal and sleep deprivation.

"How you feeling?" she asked, brown eyes glancing around the packed room before landing on my exhausted face.

"Fine. You?" I inquired lazily, picking at the last bit of gray nail polish on my pointer finger.

"I'm good," she responded merrily, flashing a dimpled grin at Scott as the young beta passed by with Stiles. "Everything's good."

"I can see that," I replied wryly, and once the brunette gave me a confused look, I playfully poked the faint bruise on her neck.

Blushing furiously, she immediately covered it with her dark, curly locks and whispered flippantly: "Shut up."

"Hey, I get it," I smirked wickedly. "Some strange monster comes out of the darkness, you're knight in hairy armor swoops in, emotions run high, and one thing leads to another and you're having hot, sweaty werewolf sex."

Giggling furiously, Allison simply whispered: "It helps him keep control during the full moon…"

Now it was my turn to guffaw, and as I snorted loudly, causing the nearest group of students to stare, I shook my head and said: "Too much information, Allison."

Laughing, my brunette companion then became a bit more serious as she inquired casually: "Speaking of… you scared us for a while there…"

Chuckles subsiding, I tucked some of my wavy, raven hair behind my ear and nodded austerely: "Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," she still sounded chipper, whilst she took my arm and linked it with her own slender one. "But what, um, what calmed you down? Cause we were definitely worried you were gonna… well… you know…"

"I don't know," I responded honestly, brows furrowed as the two of us slowly headed to the middle of the gym, where everyone was congregated.

"So you don't have _any_ ideas?" she pressed, and I suddenly got the sense that she was fishing for something.

Staring at her lovely, fair face, I merely shook my head, trying to seem unaware to the fact that I knew what she was doing.

Hell, I was the queen of digging around, and whatever answer she was looking for, if I remained silent, she would eventually share her own thoughts.

Large brown eyes drifting over to where her boyfriend and his best friend were standing, I followed the quick look her and McCall exchanged, further verifying my hunch that the two of them definitely had some idea of their own.

"Okay, you germ-infested vitality-sucking jackasses," Coach Bobby Finstock's voice boomed loudly from where he stood in the center of my peers. "Today we got something special for all of you, and if you can't tell what it is, then you're all more hopeless than I thought humanly possible."

Moving beside Scott and Stiles, Allison and I merely smirked at one another as Beacon Hills' resident crank and lacrosse coach continued to greet us ever-so-kindly: "So since we only got two harnesses, all of you break off into two lines and pair up. Put your hand down, Greenberg, no one wants to hear you talk."

And as all of the students parted like the Red Sea, I found myself being dragged behind the brunette to join Lydia Martin in line.

"You know you should be wearing shorts," Allison joked, tugging at the redhead's extremely short, red booty-shorts.

Flipping her long, strawberry blonde locks, Beacon Hills' queen bee sassily retorted: "I don't know what your talking about," but once I caught her hazel eyes go past an irritated Jackson and some of his gawking lacrosse buddies, I couldn't help but smirk right along with her.

Whittemore had been nothing but a royal asshole to his ex, and if she could somehow find a way to get under his thick skin, then good for her.

Eyeing the blonde co-captain closely, I still couldn't explain what I had felt in him yesterday, but as my gaze caught his, the arrogant teen's heart rate spiked and he immediately looked away.

He had to be hiding something.

"Sure you don't," Allison grinned knowingly, but once I noticed where her eyes were lingering, I turned and saw the horny, gaping faces of a line of boys including some nerd named Jared, Matt, a kid named Garrett, and the practically drooling Stiles Stilinski. Even Scott seemed to be trying his hardest not to look.

"All right, next up!" Coach boomed, and the moment Lydia stepped forward, all of the boys literally began clamoring over one another to get to the mat first.

Satisfied grin on her glossed lips as she harnessed herself up, Finstock started pushing apart the grunting and groaning boys: "All right, all right! Break it up you animals. Break it up!"

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Allison merely shared a cute smirk with the young beta whilst I felt myself grow a bit hot.

Obviously she found the whole thing amusing, watching perfectly intelligent young men act like a bunch of hormonal Neanderthals! Her boyfriend wasn't one of them!

And although I couldn't really blame the guys for falling all over themselves when it came to Lydia, I still couldn't grasp how one pair of shorts made them forget her little stint in the woods.

I mean, 95% of them avoided her like the plague just yesterday!

Crossing my arms, I watched her dominate the wall with a bored expression, for when Allison voiced how surprisingly fast the perfect redhead was and I caught Stiles almost hypnotized demeanor, all I could muster up was a grunt of terse agreement.

Light brown orbs shifting from her grinning lover, to the throng of sexually frustrated teens, and finally resting on my indignant face, my maddeningly perceptive friend asked, feigning naivety: "Something wrong?"

Quickly looking away from the lanky dweeb and the rest of his mindless male counterparts, I felt my face grow hot, probably from my pounding headache.

"No. What do you mean 'something wrong'? Why would something be wrong?" for some strange reason my words were much more rushed, voice slightly higher than usual, but once my gaze landed on the listening and smirking Scott McCall, I couldn't help but blurt out even more stonily: "Nothing's wrong."

"You sure?" she arched her brows, face holding a hint of glee behind it, undoubtedly due to my uncharacteristically flustered disposition. "Cause you're looking a little green…"

Hearing the faint sound of McCall's sniggering, I shot him a dangerous look, and when Stilinski finally tore his eyes from Lydia's descending ass to ask his best friend what was so funny, I hissed to my brunette cohort rather irritably: "What are you talking about? I told you I feel fine…"

"Okay, okay," Allison put her hands up in surrender, however I could hear her still trying to stifle a giggle.

Electing to ignore her, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to block out the intense throbbing of my temples, but then the brunette cracked and whispered in my ear with a slight chuckle: "You know I wasn't talking about your withdrawal right?"

Turning around and giving the chortling young girl a highly unamused look, I then growled: "Then what are you even talking about?"

Redhead propelling down and landing with grace as all of the boys practically 'oohed' and 'ahhhed', my stormy eyes followed Lydia strut towards the back of the line whilst Stilinski turned to his best friend and attempted to sound threatening: "Dude, you better not back out tonight."

And while I tried to figure out what tonight was, Allison whispered smugly: "I meant green as in jealous."

"Jealous?" turning to face her incredulously, I almost laughed in her fair face. "Jealous of what?"

But the moment Miss Argent opened her mouth to respond, Coach Finstock bellowed: "Allison! McCall! You're up!"

Flashing me one last, devious smirk, the brunette then sauntered up to the mat and began a competitive little banter with her werewolf hubby, leaving me to wrack my brains over what the human could have meant.

What on Earth would I be jealous about? I mean sure, sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be a normal teenager, or how it felt to be worshiped by practically the entire student body… and having a whole school of boys fighting over me certainly wouldn't do any harm to my ego…

Curious, maybe, and even a little mystified, but jealous? No way…

"Looks like were gonna do it together," Greenberg's voice came out of nowhere.

Completely taken aback, I turned and raised my brows at the Irish kid's wide, toothy grin, but once he realized how wrong his sentence sounded, he cleared his throat and stammered: "I, ugh, I meant the rock wall…"

"Sure you did," I responded dryly, trying to ignore the irritating whispers of all the males still ogling the strawberry blonde, but once Greenberg stepped into my line of vision, I briefly looked away from Stilinski's enamored face: "What?"

Taking in my raised brows and testy attitude, Kyle's generally pleasant disposition became quite stormy as he demanded: "Did I do something to you?"

His expression was impassive, voice even, however I could clearly hear just how erratic his heart was pounding, and I instantly sensed that the Irish boy was no longer willing to take my stand-offish-ness.

I felt bad.

I mean, he wasn't exactly my favorite person, but Greenberg had been slowly growing on me since formal, and although I couldn't figure out why he actually seemed so keen on winning me over, I also began to feel slightly sorry for the guy.

If only he knew just how damaged I truly was.

Maybe then Kyle would realize that my aloofness was actually meant to benefit him… and everyone else for that matter…

Softening up quite a bit, I apologetically mumbled: "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then what's been going on with you?" he asked somewhat impatiently, blue eyes staring down at my uncomfortable face.

I hated being put on the spot. Especially when I knew that I deserved it.

"Nothing," I lied, avoiding his piercing gaze and turning to intently watch Allison and Scott racing to the top of the rock wall.

"So what then? You just go around giving people mixed signals for fun?" I could hear how strained Greenberg's voice was becoming.

Glancing around at some of my currently staring classmates, I lowered my voice and hissed: "What are you talking about?"

"First you act like you hate my guts and completely shot me down when I asked you to go to formal," the frustrated teen called me out on my poor manners. "Then I get a call the night before that you changed your mind."

I could see the confusion in his irritated face, and honestly, I couldn't blame him.

"I didn't know changing plans was a crime," I watched the next pair harness themselves up, only for my sour gaze to drift back over to Stilinski longingly watching Lydia as she spoke with Allison.

Brunette's gaze suddenly meeting my own, I felt my face grow bright pink the second her brown eyes darted between the dorky teen and myself.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Greenberg asked, putting me on the spot as I quickly turned my back to the irritatingly smirking Allison Argent.

"W-what?" I responded, thoughts elsewhere.

"Was it the alcohol? Were you feeling lonely? Or is there some small part of you that _actually_ likes me?"

Looking up at his freckled, waiting face, I felt my skin begin to crawl.

I never intended to hurt the guy's feelings, but I certainly didn't go out of my way to be particularly nice to him either.

"Greenberg…"

"Just tell me if you regret it," he cut me off.

Opening my mouth to offer some pathetic response, I was soon interrupted by Coach Finstock's obnoxiously loud voice: "Greenberg! Hale! Quit flirting and bring your sorry, unathletic butts over here!"

Ignoring all of my peers' sniggers, I watched Kyle plod forward and hook himself up, and as the guilt continued to eat away at my queasy stomach, I clicked the belt and tightened my line with a whisper: "Look, I know I'm an asshole, okay?"

Merely clenching his jaw and remaining silent, Kyle and I both began our slow climb up the wall.

God, I really must have hurt him, or maybe just bruised his ego, but either way, I understood that I at least owed him an explanation.

"I have zero social skills, a less than stellar personality, and my idea of a good time is avoiding pretty much everyone," I confessed, easily keeping up with the boy as he struggled on his ascent. "But trust me when I say this, you don't wanna get involved with someone like me."

Finally glancing at my sincere expression, Greenberg looked as if he were about to say something, but only changed his mind and pushed forward, leaving me to lag behind with a frown on my face.

Catching up with a few, swift movements, I was now determined to resolve this: "I'm just… I'm not good at relationships… even friendships…"

"Clearly," he interjected under his breath, causing me to purse my lips before I continued.

"And… and I guess I should have maybe warned you beforehand," I added sheepishly, swallowing my pride like a nasty, dry pill.

"That you're emotionally stunted?" Greenberg quipped, but as I stared back at him, I could see a small, playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yup. Pretty much damaged beyond repair," I agreed with my own crooked grin, but as the boy turned back to focus on climbing the wall, I knew I wasn't in the clear just yet.

Sighing, I blew some of my raven hair out of my face and quickly caught up, adding: "But from now on, no more games, okay?"

Pausing, the kid's blue eyes observed my even face, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded in stiff agreement.

"So we're good?" I asked, brows raised.

"Yeah, sure," he grinned a bit, before devilishly adding, "But only after I beat you to the top."

Chuckling as I watched the kid inelegantly pull himself higher and higher up the wall, I simply sped up, surpassing the now gaping teen with ease and ringing the bell at the top of the wall.

Looking over my shoulder, I mischievously smirked back: "Sorry," only to propel down and briefly stop beside Greenberg's speechless form: "But if its any consolation, I don't regret that kiss at all."

Hearing his heart rate spike, I merely took in his dopey and highly enthusiastic toothy grin, but before Greenberg could mutter an undoubtedly cocky comment, the distracted boy lost his footing, slipped, and crashed down with a loud thud on the mat.

"Greenberg," Coach knelt down and hovered over the groaning teen as I landed with a satisfied smirk. "I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy."

Throwing his head back and laughing along with the rest of our class, Kyle merely rubbed his skull and grunted as he rolled onto his side, still coughing from the impact of the fall.

Extending my hand, I beamed down at the slightly flushed lacrosse player and helped him up, giggling hysterically in the process.

"Shut up," he grumbled, shoving me a bit, his own freckled face now decorated with an amused grin.

Shooting the chuckling teen a look, I then shook my head, biting my cheek to keep from laughing, and as I turned to rejoin my friends, my eyes landing on the staring Stiles Stilinski.

Caramel eyes watching Greenberg and I closely, the lanky teen's pulse was uneven and I could tell he wanted to say something, but before he could, Lydia rushed over and grabbed my arm.

"Oh my God! You are _so_ into him!" she oozed, voice rushed as her eyes drifted over to Greenberg's still foolishly grinning face. "And he's totally into you, too!"

"Lydia," I sighed, trying to brush the queen bee off, but as she dragged me away and babbled on about what a cute couple we'd be, I caught Stilinski's light brown eyes follow us, but this time, those large orbs were fixated only on me.

Chest swelling up with an odd sense of gratification, I couldn't help but smile to myself, mind no longer on the redhead's incessant blabbering.

"Stilinski! Erica! Let's go!" Finstock called out his next round of orders as Lydia and I joined Allison in the back of the line.

"Can you tell her to just admit it?" Lydia put her hands on her hips, hazel eyes sternly staring at my preoccupied face.

"Admit what?" the brunette asked, brows furrowed.

"That she has a crush!" the redhead bounced a bit in excitement.

"Oh she does, does she?" I could hear the grin on her dimpled face.

Eyes darting from where I was watching the pale dork awkwardly scaling the rock wall, I shot the smirking brunette a harsh look.

"_No_," I stated crossly, folding my arms stubbornly. "Do I seem like the type to even _have_ feelings?"

Making a face, the queen bee appeared to pondering my words, however Allison was clearly less convinced.

Deep brown eyes surveying me as I stole yet another glance at Stilinski oddly blowing the quiet blonde away, I quickly cleared my throat and shifted positions uncomfortably.

"So maybe you don't _like_ him," the strawberry blonde flipped her curly locks airily. "But you can still lust after him."

"Oh my God, Lydia," Allison groaned, voicing my own distaste with the redhead's phrase.

"What?" she asked innocently enough, brows raised and eyes wide. "There's clearly some sexual tension going on between the two of them."

Chiding the queen bee, our brunette companion reminded us: "But Kyle actually has feelings for her."

"And?" Lydia responded, shaking her head slightly.

"And if she slept with him, that would be using him!" Allison countered, being the moral voice of reason that she always was.

"So what?" Beacon Hills' queen bee retorted a bit moodily. "It's not the 1950s anymore. Girls can use guys for sex just as much as they use us."

Taking in her touchy expression, I caught the redhead's hazel eyes quickly shoot over to Jackson, and I immediately knew that we were no longer talking about my romantic life.

"Besides," she added, shaking off her cold disposition. "Let's be honest here… Charlie seriously needs to get laid."

Slightly offended, I opened my mouth to argue with my fabulous friend, but as Lydia stared right back at me, brows arched, I had to nod in agreement.

Only when Allison gave me a stern look did I remember my oath not to play games with the poor kid, so I quickly put my nose up in the air, stating gruffly: "Allison's right."

Rolling her eyes and groaning loudly, Lydia sighed in exasperation: "Ugh! You guys are so boring!"

And as my two friends continued to argue over the morality of Lydia's suggestion, I suddenly felt a strange fog fall over me, making my brain go fuzzy.

Looking around, I instantly felt drawn towards the rock wall, and as I silently made my way through the crowd, I heard the blonde girl's extremely low and almost mortified voice mutter: "Oh, please…"

She had been frozen just three feet above the mat this entire time, and as Stiles triumphantly rang the bell and landed back on the ground, gloating as he hopped around, I caught Scott's equally worried eye.

Something wasn't right, and McCall felt it too.

"E-Erica?" Bobby Finstock suddenly caught onto the fact that something was wrong with the blonde recluse. "Are you dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

Class now crowding around and watching the spectacle, I could feel Erica's anxiety, as if my own radically tensing up body was fused with hers.

"Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear," Lydia corrected coach's wrong assessment, and although everyone seemed dumbfounded by the apparent airhead's extremely informed response, she merely added with a casual tone of voice: "She's just freaking out."

"Erica?" Finstock called up to her tentatively.

"I-I'm fine," she croaked, voice cracking, but the moment she spoke, I felt myself grow dizzier and dizzier.

She was definitely lying.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe," Allison stepped forward, whispering with the most concerned of expressions. "You know she's epileptic."

Instantaneously equating this overwhelming paralyzing sensation with the precursor symptoms of an impending seizure, I couldn't help but kick myself for not realizing sooner.

Erica Reyes was the quiet, sickly girl that always kept to herself in school, with the exception of a small handful of friends.

"Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff?" our surly economics teacher grumbled under his breath before feebly attempting to calm the panicking blonde student, who was still clinging to the wall for dear life. "Erica, y-you're fine. Just kick off from the wall."

Whimpering despite her best efforts to seem composed and collected, I could literally feel the fear building up inside of her.

"There's a mat to catch you," he continued, voice echoing in the dead-silent gym. "Come on."

Timidly glancing down behind her, the pale blonde's tearful brown eyes examined how far she was going to have to jump, and after a few moments of thick silence, Erica clamped her eyes shut.

"See, you're fine," I could almost hear coach's sigh of relief once her wobbly feet hit the padding. "You're on the ground. You're all right."

But as some of the kids in the class began to whisper and snigger at the shaking and highly mortified girl, Finstock eyed her quivering lip fretfully.

I knew the uncouth man would have no idea how to handle a hysterically crying teenage girl, and as I saw her bright red face take in our peers' snickering ones, I felt anger bubble up within me.

How heartless were these people? Couldn't they see how upset and embarrassed she was? It wasn't her fault she was an epileptic!

"L-let's go," our economics teacher guided her through the crowd, voice tense. "Shake it off. You're fine."

And as I sympathetically stared after the now silently weeping blonde rushing into the girls' locker room, head hung down in shame, I felt the urge to follow her.

Sure I empathized with her, considering I knew exactly how it felt to be an outsider… to be considered a freak, but that wasn't why I felt so drawn to her.

Something was definitely wrong with Erica Reyes, and it wasn't just the crippling humiliation, for as she stepped past me, a heavy and almost foreboding sensation washed over me, instantly giving me an enormous migraine.

"Listen up!" Bobby's voice rang out, snapping me out of my thoughts, my gaze still fixated on the locker room door. "If anybody sees Isaac Lahey, you immediately tell the principal."

No longer listening in to the blonde's sobs from within the other room, I looked up and met Scott, Stiles, and Allison's anxious looks whilst coach continued to speak about the missing beta.

"You hear me? Get a teacher, or call me," he spoke sternly, only for his light brown eyes to land harshly on Kyle: "Except for you, Greenberg.

Don't call me for anything," and as everyone began to chuckle, including the still giddy Irish boy, Finstock added with a deadpan voice and expression. "I'm not kidding. Don't call me. You shouldn't even have my number."

Then, piercing whistle blowing into my currently ringing ears, the obnoxious man with messy brown hair dismissed us, yelling about how the guys needed to shower up and put some deodorant on for a change.

Head pounding, I followed a chatty Lydia and attentive Allison into the girls' locker room, mind trying to sort out which of the piling mysteries I needed to try to solve first.

There was the nagging question about what Lydia Martin now was, as well as whatever Jackson could be too, considering that unnerving jolt he had surprised me with not 48 hours ago. Then there was the whole Argent issue, not to mention the fact that I now needed to keep a low profile in school so that Gerard wouldn't discover what family I was a part of.

Speaking of family, now I had to worry about a crazed, irrational Derek running around and turning people on a whim, as well as finding out where the Hell he was keeping Isaac or if he had any clue about this new, unknown monster running around town.

And of course, as if all of these unsolved questions weren't enough to juggle, I was still figuring out how to control myself without drugs and learn what being a Delta truly meant, all while apparently losing my mind.

Needless to say, prioritizing all of these issues, let alone attempting to correct them, was getting beyond overwhelming.

Getting to my locker, I began to change, eyes drifting around the room for any sign of Erica, but when I didn't spot her, I figured she had rushed out to avoid all of the gossiping girls… and truthfully, I couldn't blame her…

"What do you mean tonight's not a good idea?" I faintly heard Stiles' shrill voice from the room adjacent to ours.

"I don't know," Scott's response was low and muffled. "That thing that we saw last night, Isaac missing, Allison's grandfather… all this stuff happening with Derek… it just doesn't feel right."

Unsure as to what the two boys were even talking about, it felt oddly reassuring to know that I wasn't the only one extremely stressed out over how complicated things seemed to have gotten, but when an irritated Stilinski retorted, I felt myself growing more and more annoyed.

"No, you're not backing out. Do you wanna know why?" the lanky teen's voice was rushed and impatient. "Because you and Allison are obviously having quite a good time together, and you know who else wants to have a good time? Stiles! Stiles wants to have a good time… many, many times! Several times in a row, in several different positions."

And as the sexually frustrated nerd kept complaining on and on about how dismal his sex life was, I abruptly realized that I was swaying in the spot where I stood.

"Charlie, are you… are you okay?" Allison's concerned voice asked while I grew dizzier and dizzier.

It was a peculiar kind of faintness, and not like any woozy spell I had ever experienced before.

My body was stiff, head and limbs so heavy that I could barely move, and as my brain grew hazy, an intense sensation of pins and needles began prickling at my skin.

"Charlie?" the brunette asked again, this time with Lydia coming over to my locker, as well.

This definitely wasn't my withdrawal, and although this could have been the beginnings of another hallucination, I had a deep, guttural feeling that whatever I was experiencing, it wasn't meant to warn solely me.

Without even a second thought, I merely glanced at both of my worried and confused friends, only to utter that something was about to happen and run out of the room.

Dashing through the heavy locker room door into the gym, I could feel my muscles slowly beginning to constrict to the point where every movement ached, but once my eyes landed on the blonde female high up on the rock wall, no mat underneath her, I knew exactly what I was feeling.

That tightness, that crushing compression of my insides… Erica was feeling that right now from where she stood still, white knuckling the wall.

Boys' locker room door bursting open, I then quickly glanced at an equally alarmed Scott and after split second of registering what was about to happen, McCall and I sprinted forward.

Arriving at the dimly lit rock wall just in the nick of time, the tan teen and I outstretched our arms as Reyes fell back, catching her dead weight in our interlocking arms.

Classmates now swarming around us, craning their necks and gasping as the poor blonde girl began seizing violently in Scott and my stunned arms.

"Lay her down," I felt my own body beginning to go limp. "Lay her down."

Nodding his head, the young beta obediently did so, and once her body hit the ground, the epileptic teen's mouth began to foam.

"Someone get the nurse! Or coach!" someone yelled from within the throng of spectators.

"Put her on her side!" Allison pushed her way forward, kneeling down beside her boyfriend and I.

Supporting her shaking neck as Scott turned her, the wide-eyed brunette glanced between the both of us and breathed: "H-how'd you know?"

Panting a bit and adrenaline pumping quite quickly through my veins, I was too light-headed to respond so I simply shook my mystified head.

"I think… I think we just felt it," Scott ventured slowly, voice slow and deep brown eyes focused on Erica's pale, convulsing body.

Gripping her head firmly to keep it from slamming against the hard, wooden floor, I peered into her vacant brown eyes, and as a small, shimmering tear popped out and streaked down her face, I couldn't help but get a little choked up myself.

I knew exactly what it felt like to have zero control over my body, and it wasn't fun. But this, this was almost humiliating, because as soon as her body began to grow still, limbs lying sprawled out limply, our classmates began to chuckle.

"Look, she peed herself," a large, heavy-set boy with flaming red hair and freckles pointed, pulling out his cellphone.

Eyes flashing and anger surging through me, I growled for Scott to take her head, and as he and his equally perplexed girlfriend glanced at me with questioning looks, I shoved a few sniggering kids out of my way, stepping right up to the kid videotaping the entire ordeal.

"Put that away," I spoke, voice even and dangerous, glaring up at his beady little brown eyes.

Looking down his nose at me, as if I were nothing but an annoying fly buzzing in his face, the ginger teen laughed and stepped to the side, muttering something to his friend about how much this video could go viral.

Clenching my jaw and body shaking in white-hot rage, I spun around and grabbed the kid's chubby wrist, giving it a sharp twist and making him yelp out in pain.

"Let go of me!" he winced, trying to yank his arm away, but as I gripped him with unnatural strength, his efforts proved futile.

Squeezing harder and simply twisting even more, I glowered into his face, which I now jerked down to my level: "I _said_ put it away."

Eyes tearing up from the pain and face flushed from shame, no doubt from being manhandled by a tiny girl like me, he then mumbled: "Okay…"

"What?" I furrowed my brows, malicious sneer spreading across my face as I clamped by nails down even harder: "I couldn't hear that."

"_Okay!_" he said even louder, his voice strained, and as I let him go rather gruffly, he glared at me and shoved his cell back into his pocket, growling: "Crazy bitch…"

Not phased whatsoever by his rude comment, or even everyone staring at me with such odd expressions, it was the moment my eyes landed on Stiles' steady caramel ones did my face grow hot.

What the Hell was he looking at? Shouldn't he be proud that I stepped up and did something _nice_ for a change?

Feeling irritated beyond belief, I then turned on my heel and stalked out of the gymnasium, ignoring everyone's murmurs as my mind traveled to other things.

* * *

><p>Sitting in biology, gnawing on my pencil as I stared morosely out the window, I tried to ignore the massive headache wreaking havoc on my brain.<p>

I had avoided Scott, Allison, and Stiles since the gym, and as they sat at the table opposite Lydia, Danny and I, I felt their eyes constantly darting in my direction.

Sure I may have been a tad overly aggressive, but that was my personality. And couldn't they see that the jerk deserved it? He was going to humiliate some poor, pitiful girl and I did the right thing. Hell, I didn't even come close to losing control!

"Psst," Mahealani leaned forward. "Charlie."

Eyes lazily traveling from the parking lot I was staring at to his smirking face, I raised my brows and whispered back a bit testily: "What?"

"I just wanted to tell you that what you did in gym, it was awesome," he grinned, dimples forming on his handsome face.

Smirking a bit with the pencil still in my mouth, my gaze quickly caught Stilinski and McCall's as I asked a bit sheepishly: "I, ugh, I didn't overreact did I?"

Pretending not to hear Lydia's scolding 'shushes', Danny chuckled: "Yeah, maybe a little, but O'Hara's a dick."

Feeling a little better about the situation, I nodded with a small grin as the Hawaiian teen added: "Just remind me not to piss you off."

"The only one you should be worried about pissing off is me," Lydia hissed, hazel eyes darting between the two of us. "So shut up!"

Snickering, Danny and I merely smiled mischievously at one another before turning back to our perspective previous activities.

'_A small exposure of an otherwise deadly virus can actually prevent the effects of the infection from spreading. This is called vaccination_,' the educational video's speaker droned on whilst I chomped down on the wooden pencil some more, counting down the minutes until lunchtime.

"What the Hell did you do to my camera?" I heard Matt whisper to someone rather angrily.

"Huh?" I looked around, only to spot a snoozing Greenberg, furious Daehler, and a defensive Whittemore seated two tables in front of us.

"The lens is cracked. Did you drop it?" Matt asked with a frown.

'_Your body is primed to fight off the infection_,' the video continued as I listened intently to the conversation at hand: "Do you know how expensive this thing is?"

Wondering what Jackson would even a video camera for, I suspiciously eyed the blonde lacrosse co-captain, barely even listening as the speaker brought up something about meningitis and rabies from an animal bite.

"Jackson!" Matt spoke more forcefully, for Whittemore was strangely engrossed in the videotape.

"Just send me a bill," his growled, blue eyes dark as he watched the screen intently.

'_Meaning the subject is now immune_.'

Rabies.

Animal bite.

Immune.

Mind connecting the dots, my eyes darted towards Whittemore's somewhat enraged face, and as I realized what had to be going through his head as well, I saw the blonde turn back and stare intimidatingly at the oblivious Lydia Martin.

She had been bitten, with no effects that we knew of. Maybe she was immune, but then again, maybe so was Jackson. And understanding just how badly that egotistical jerk thirsted for power, well I could only imagine what he was mentally blaming his ex for now.

Cold blue eyes then landing on my own steady and protective stare, I heard his pulse escalate, but as the bell rang and everyone rose, I turned to tell Lydia to walk to lunch with me.

"Sorry," she twirled her long red hair, grabbing her purse and stating: "I gotta go to the bathroom, but I'll meet you there."

"Lydia," I groaned, trying to follow the queen bee, only to get cut off by Stiles Stilinski.

"H-hey!" he energetically called, bouncing a bit as I continued to strain my neck and watch the redhead exit the room, quickly followed by Jackson.

Sighing in exasperation, I looked up at Stilinski's flushed and grinning face and evenly answered: "Hi."

"What's up?" he asked, trying so hard to seem casual.

"Going to lunch," I responded slowly, throwing my bag over my shoulder as we exited the classroom. "Like we always do at this time…"

"Right," he nodded jerkily, tugging on his own backpack straps before blurting out: "Can I ask you something?"

"Stiles," I sighed in exhaustion as I stared up at his pale face. "I really don't wanna talk about it."

Shaking his head a bit, the gangly teen was definitely lost as he looked down at me and asked: "Talk about what?"

"What happened in the gym," I grumbled, brushing some hair out of my face, eyes focused ahead of me rather than his face. "I know you're all thinking that I could've lost control and overreacted, but I don't care."

"Actually, we thought that was really decent of you," he responded simply, and unable to hide my surprise, I glanced up at his sincere face.

"Really?" I asked, my brows furrowed.

Nodding his head, the lanky boy shrugged and replied: "Yeah… even though you were a little scary…"

Chest puffing out, I couldn't help but grin broadly, and now feeling substantially better about everything I inquired: "So what did you wanna ask me then?"

"Oh!" Stiles exclaimed whilst we rounded the corner. "I, um, I need 10 bucks."

"Doesn't your dad give you lunch money?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Ugh, yeah, but um…" he fumbled over his words, but due to my rare, jovial mood, I simply reached into my bag, pulled out a ten, and handed it to the dork.

Glancing down from the bill to my calm face, Stiles' eyes lit up as he excitedly thanked me over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah," I grinned, feeling strangely happy to have done yet another good deed today. "Just don't spend it on anything stupid."

"Oh, I won't!" Stilinski reassured me, more giddy than usual, and once we stepped foot into the cafeteria, he took off in the other direction and called over his shoulder: "I'll just… I'll just be a minute."

Perplexed as I watched the gawky boy trip on someone's book bag, I simply giggled to myself and shook my head, not in the mindset of trying to figure out what the eccentric teen had planned.

* * *

><p>"Not hungry?" Scott asked, chocolate brown eyes fixated on me as I pushed the rubbery spaghetti around the plate.<p>

"Not particularly, no," I mumbled, looking down at the most unappetizing pasta I had ever laid eyes on with a thoroughly disgusted expression.

"Have you been eating at all?" I could hear the concern in McCall's voice, and so, as I looked back up at him, I tried to concentrate on keeping my heart rate even.

I knew that regardless what my answer was, the beta would eventually ask about my withdrawal, and I needed to be impossibly convincing to hide the unsettling truth.

"A little," I shrugged nonchalantly, but I could tell he wasn't sold.

"Is it, ugh, is it from the withdrawal?" he timidly asked me.

"That and whatever crap on a plate they serve us for hot lunch," I joked lightly, hoping that if I made a lighthearted comment, the kid would be more inclined to assume that everything was under control.

Nodding a bit with a slight chuckle, Scott then pressed some more: "So you're okay?"

"I mean, I'm dying for a cigarette and I still have a headache, but the nausea's going away," I confessed truthfully, concluding that lying by omission would be a more successful strategy.

"Well that's good," he responded, biting into his PB&J sandwich.

"Boyd, you got the keys?" I caught the sound of Stilinski's voice from a few table away.

"This isn't a favor," the boy responded stonily. "It's a transaction."

"Right, yeah," I turned around, eyes landing on Stiles as he pulled out two twenties and slid them across the table like he was part of some shady drug deal. "Absolutely."

Recognizing the large African American boy as Isaac's friend from the formal, I couldn't help but feel my stomach tighten.

Had he spoken to Isaac? Did he know where he was? Or _what_ he was?

Maybe that was why Stiles was paying him… to get information…

"I said 50," Boyd responded, barely even looking at the two twenty dollar bills.

"Really?" Stilinski's voice was higher and a bit strained whilst he chuckled weakly: "I-I remember 20," but when Boyd simply sat, staring back at him with stubborn boredom, the lanky kid added: "I don't know, I mean I have a really good verbal memory, and I remember 20."

Sniggering over how absolutely unsmooth Stiles truly was, I watched the socially awkward teen push the bills closer to the unmoving boy sitting sourly across from him.

"I remember that distinct 'twa' sound, as in 'twa-enty'," Stilinski sounded out the words slowly, clearly thinking that that approach would work.

Practically wanting to slap my hand against my forehead, I could barely look at the painful exchange any longer.

"I said fifty. With a 'fa' sound," Boyd corrected the pale boy harshly. "Hear the difference? Cause if you can't, I can demonstrate some other words with the 'fa' sound."

Biting my cheek to keep from bursting out laughing, I took in Boyd's cross expression and Stiles' speechless one.

Mouth slightly open and eyes wider than usual, the nerdy teenager stammered: "Uh, no, n-no. I think I'm recalling it… maybe I just got it confused with 'for-ty'."

Having to give him props for his sheer persistence, I watched Boyd's brown eyes narrow.

Crossing his arms and turning his nose up at the money, the large, reclusive teen shook his head firmly.

"Come on, man, have you seen the piece of crap Jeep that I drive?" Stiles whined.

"You seen the piece of crap bus that I take?" Boyd raised his brows, voice completely unsympathetic, and as Stilinski thoughtfully took those words into consideration, the African American teenager stated firmly: "Fifty."

Groaning and dropping his head in elaborate defeat, Stiles then begrudgingly pulled out my ten and thrust it into the kid's hand.

Wide grin spreading across his face, he gloatingly thanked the tart Stilinski as he rummaged around his pockets.

"_Charlie,"_ Scott spoke sharply.

Blinking a bit, I turned my gaze back to the tan teenager, who clearly had been trying to get my attention this entire time.

"W-what?" I asked, blinking a bit.

"You didn't hear any of that, did you?" he asked, expression slightly impatient.

"Ugh, no," I grinned feebly, voice apologetic.

"Well I was saying I needed to give you a heads up about something," McCall began to repeat himself, but before he could go any further, Stiles practically flew into the seat beside me, breathing heavily as he held out a large chain of keys triumphantly.

"Got 'em!" he grinned, cheeks blotchy and flushed.

Thoroughly confused, I couldn't help but become a little irked that he had paid $50 for a set of keys and not to possibly find Isaac.

"I'll pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink, cool?" Stilinski barely noticed my steady stare as he continued to make plans with his best friend.

"What rink?" I inquired, tone of voice a bit strained.

Caramel eyes flitting over to me, Stiles opened his mouth to flippantly respond, but McCall's more serious voice was the one to sound: "That's what I wanted to talk to you about…"

Brows now furrowed as deeply as my own, both Stilinski and I stared at Scott's uncomfortable expression, awaiting an explanation, yet none was to come for Kyle Greenberg popped up out of practically nowhere.

"Hey guys!" he greeted us as we nearly jumped out of our skin.

"Greenberg," Stiles muttered fairly coldly as Scott flashed a weak grin up at the teenager beaming down at us.

"Hey," I smiled cordially, though all I really wanted was to find out what McCall had to say.

"I just wanted to tell you guys thanks for the invite," Kyle stated cheerfully. "And thank Lydia for me, too."

"Thank you and Lydia for what?" I muttered under my breath to an equally stumped Stiles.

Shaking his head stiffly, both Stilinski and I watched the very uneasy Scott nod his head as he forced a smile up at the completely ignorant teen standing over us.

Then, blue eyes drifting down to my blank face, Greenberg's cheeks grew pinker as he stated eagerly: "I'll, um, I'll see you tonight."

Mouth hanging open, I tried to find something to say but only managed a gawky nod, and once the clearly excited teen left our table, both Stilinski and I turned to McCall in sheer alarm.

"What was that about?" I asked in trepidation, feeling quite blindsided.

"Well Lydia and Allison didn't wanna leave you out tonight, so they told me to invite you," Scott started to slowly explain.

"To what? Some little double-date at the ice rink?" I scoffed, feeling even more indignant that Stiles had actually used _my_ money to weasel his way into another date with the uninterested queen bee. "No thank you."

"Yeah, well you know Lydia," Scott seemed downright repentant at this point. "She knew you'd say no so she, um, she told Kyle you'd go with him."

Almost ducking in his seat as Stiles and I let out loud, incredulous 'what's, McCall glanced between our two irritated faces, but once I glanced at Stilinski's resentful expression, all of my ire was redirected to him.

"What do you mean '_what_'?" I snarled defensively, eyes dangerous.

Looking from Scott's speechless face to my irate one, Stiles immediately choked a bit.

"You don't want me to come?" I inquired snappily, brows raised as I glowered at the dork's slightly open mouth. "Cause Kyle and I can go somewhere else for our date if it bothers you that much."

"_No_!" Stiles blurted out before laughing a little too loudly: "It doesn't bother me! You guys can come… yeah, totally come," he nodded jerkily, voice higher than usual. "The more the merrier."

Still giving the obnoxious, hyperactive teenager a dirty look, he gulped anxiously and changed the subject with a weak grin: "You gonna eat that?"

Knowing that he was referring to my untouched spaghetti, I simply passed it to him gruffly and as he piled a massive mouthful into his face, I bitterly muttered: "Don't choke."

Shooting me a look, Stiles' caramel eyes suddenly drifted just past my cranky face. Then, jaw immediately dropping, he spilled some pasta back onto the plate.

"What the holy Hell is that?" his eyes were wide, voice garbled from the food.

Tearing his slightly amused eyes off of the two of us, Scott and I turned to see where he was looking, and once we saw an extremely attractive blonde strutting through the cafeteria. Wearing the tightest black leather skirt, matching pumps and jacket, and a very low-cut tank, she applied a fresh coat of her deep red lipstick as the entire room went silent.

Blonde curls bouncing as every guy practically fell out of their chairs, she leaned sensually down and plucked an apple off the table next to ours, making the tiny freshman boy almost pass out.

Biting into the red fruit, she then turned around, deep brown eyes sultrily eyeing Scott and I, and as a wide, wicked grin flashed on her glowing face, I immediately recognized the hyper-sexualized bombshell.

"It's Erica," McCall breathed whilst his best friend lustfully watched her saunter out of the cafeteria, but the second she disappeared, I jumped up from my seat.

Heart racing, I knew exactly what had happened to the once frumpy, shy girl, and as I heard both Stilinski and McCall racing after me, we burst through the main entrance's double doors and found the newest beta hop into a shiny black Camaro.

Glaring down at my haughtily leering older cousin, with my two stunned companions also staring on in astonishment, I could only muster up one livid word as the black vehicle screeched away.

"Derek…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go! Next update! Sorry for the delay. November and December are super hectic at my university so I've been busy. I'm excited about the next upcoming chapters though, so I hope to get them up sooner rather than later.**

**Also, sorry there hasn't been much action lately, but as you know, season 2 basically goes 0 to 100 in the action department, so things WILL pick up!**

**special thanks to my AMAZING PMers and reviewers: cruzzy93, Ladysunshine6, SortofForever, EmeraldGrey22, XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, and cecld16 **

**This chapter was inspired by Zola Jesus' "NIGHT" and the 8tracks will be up NEXT CHAPTER! **

_**Anyway, the reviews and comments have dwindled a bit, so if my story telling's getting stale, tell me! and my apologies! **_

**Other than that, this updates pretty LONG and contains pretty important conversations, as well as some cute STARLIE and Karlie (Kyle/Charlie since a lot of you now ship them :D) moments! OKAYYY READ AWAY AND ENJOY MY DARLINGS!**

SIX: NIGHT

Splashing cool, refreshing water on my sheet white face, I inhaled deeply.

Allison had sworn up and down that neither of her parents were going to be home, but of course, the moment I let my guard down and actually began having fun as we all got ready for the triple date, we heard Chris Argent's truck pull into the driveway.

Exchanging fretful looks with his equally shocked daughter, I then darted out of her bedroom and rushed into the bathroom just as the front door opened.

Trying to get a handle on my minor panic attack, I stared at my reflection whilst wiping the now streaked mascara from under my wide eyes.

I needed to get a grip.

Allison would most likely be in hot water and was even risking a grounding for having a werewolf over, but then again, there was no prospect for the brunette undergoing immense torture, only to be brutally killed.

No, that was reserved for me…

Breathing shakily, I tried to think of a way to casually leave the house and avoid the entire sticky situation, and as my hand reached into my skinny jean pocket and pulled out my cell, I had every intention of calling someone for advice.

Scrolling through my contacts, my freshly manicured finger lingered over 'Stiles Stilinski'.

The dork always found his way out of things and I could seriously use a plan B right now, but as I stared down at his illuminated name, I swallowed the large, dry anxiety-induced lump in my throat.

No.

I could figure this out myself.

Sighing, I put my phone away, mentally concluding that I should just sneak away while Chris was occupied prying into his daughter's life. Then, once I was safely out of the Argent household would I simply explain to everyone that I had suddenly fallen ill and needed to go home.

Short and simple.

Giving myself a reassuring nod in the mirror, I brushed some of my long, wavy raven hair from my face and turned on my heel.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, I only heard Allison's faint music playing, and as I slowly shut the door behind me, making not a sound, I quickly spun around to make my exit.

Just as I lifted my foot, however, did I hear Mr. Argent clear his throat from right behind me.

Heart sinking as I froze in my place, I shut my eyes, silently expressing my frustration.

"Charlie?" his voice was pleasant enough, so when I slowly turned to face him, I flashed the largest smile I could muster.

"Mr. Argent," I greeted him brightly, but when I opened my mouth to speak more, the middle-aged hunter cut me off.

"Don't tell me you're leaving so soon," his icy blue eyes watched me closely, making my skin crawl.

"Well, I'm not feeling so well so I figured…"

"Nonsense," Mr. Argent put his muscular arm firmly around my slender shoulders, his heart rate even whilst he redirected me back to his daughter's room. "Besides," he slowly led me down the hallway, "We both know werewolves don't get sick."

Stifling my snort, it took all I had to keep from sarcastically muttering 'so much you know', but figuring that poking a sleeping bear wouldn't be the wisest of choices, I bit my tongue.

And his words _did_ have some truth to them. It wasn't Chris' fault that he didn't know I was the exception to the rule.

"Now, just so we're clear, you do remember that little conversation we had a few days ago, correct?" his voice was even, though it held a slightly threatening tone.

Chest tightening, I looked back up into his impassive face and felt a twinge of anger bubble up inside of me.

Nodding stiffly, my mind flashed back to the agreement Chris and I had come to.

_I had been out for late-night run around 3 am just three days ago, and of course, as I stopped to catch my breath, I was interrupted by the sound of a cocked weapon from just behind me…_

_"Charlotte Hale," Mr. Argent's voice rang out in the silent woods, making my blood run cold._

_Turning, I balled up my fists and hissed through clenched teeth: "It's Charlie."_

_Eyeing me closely, the hunter seemed fairly surprised that I was calmly staring at his face rather than the barrel of his gun, which was currently aimed right at my forehead._

_"Charlie," he corrected himself quietly._

_Still watching him with the most unphased of expressions, I simply remained in stony silence, and after a moment or two, our tense standoff ended as he lowered his weapon._

_"This is the second time I let you live," Chris spoke sternly, icy stare boring into my own irate face._

_"Well that's just swell of you, Mr. Argent," I sardonically quipped, "Remind me to send you a fruit basket as a thank you."_

_Smug and crooked grin spreading across my face, I took in the small vein now throbbing in his neck, and fully satisfied that I had gotten under the hunter's skin, I turned to stalk back off into the darkness._

_"I know what it means," he called, making me pause._

_What was he talking about?_

_"Red, yellow, blue… they all mean something different," he continued steadily. "Red's the Alpha. The strongest one. Yellow, that's the Beta. Weaker, but innocent. And blue…" he trailed off, whilst I walked back over to him._

_"Blue's the eyes of a killer," I finished his sentence, words dangerous as I allowed my own to glow brightly._

_Now it was Chris Argent's turn to stand firmly, pulse not even rising as he stared back into my eerie blue eyes. _

_"How many?" he demanded. "How many people have you killed?"_

_"What does it matter?" I snarled back indignantly. "Hunters don't care, right? Even if it was self-defense or a one-time mistake… I still have blue eyes, which means according to that little 'code of ethics' of yours, I'm guilty."_

_Standing toe-to-toe, I rage pumping through my veins as I took in Mr. Argent's angrily clenched jaw, but soon the man staring down at me growled: "You're right."_

_Half expecting that gun to be shoved right back into my harsh, irreverent face, Chris then did something that truly surprised me._

_Sighing heavily, he put the weapon back into his holster and said with a low voice: "Those lives you took… those deaths are on me, too. And my family, so I promised Allison I'd spare you, like Scott."_

_"Again," I retorted snarkily. "That's _super_ considerate of you."_

_"But you're not like Scott," he continued, voice now filled with abhorrence as he looked down at me. "You and I both know that." _

_Feeling pangs of guilt and self-loathing, I couldn't help but shift a bit as my stomach churned._

_"So," Mr. Argent raised his brows, expression becoming slightly more amiable. "I'll keep my promise, but the moment you harm someone, the second you so much as squash a bug, I'll take you down," his voice dropped to a murderous growl. "And I won't even blink."_

_I knew that he was dead serious, and although I felt a small twinge of fear, I buried my intimidation as a wide sneer flashed across my face._

_"I'd like to see you try."_

Eyes still locked on Mr. Argent's steady ones, we stood in front of Allison's closed door, glaring at one another darkly, but the moment we heard the knob turn, Chris loosened his iron grip on my shoulders whilst we both beamed innocently at his daughter's uneasy face.

"Dad?" she asked a bit worriedly, while Lydia called flirtatiously: "Hi, Mr. Argent!"

"Lydia," the handsome hunter greeted the redhead tersely as I stepped into the room.

Concerned brown eyes darting between her father and I, Allison looked as if she was about to get sick.

"Allison," Mr. Argent stated casually. "Can I talk to you?"

Tensely nodding, I then watched the fair teen follow her dad out into the hallway whilst I took my seat beside the queen bee.

"Heading out?" he asked his uncomfortable daughter, voice barely audible, even to me.

"Studying," she lied, expression and voice even. "Just studying, dad."

Eyeing Lydia and I closely, I knew that the man didn't believe his child's fib.

"You're not wearing _that_, are you?" Lydia finished her usual selfie photo shoot as she scanned me up and down.

Grumpy and all ready on edge, I merely shot her a look and defensively asked: "What's wrong with my outfit now?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, before muttering under her breath: "I just saw it like a _million_ times."

Shaking my head, I could care less if the strawberry blonde approved of my black skinny jeans, heeled booties, and Stiles' black batman tee, so rather than arguing, I just pretended to text as I continued to listen in on the Argents' hushed voices.

"I get it, but we need to remember what happened," Chris was stealing glances at the oblivious redhead.

Obviously referring to the fact that Lydia Martin had been bitten by an Alpha, but had yet to show any signs or symptoms of becoming a werewolf, I had to admit that I understood the man's apprehension.

"You want me to stop being friends with her?" Allison's voice was slightly higher as she protested defiantly.

"Actually," he thoughtfully responded, "We want the opposite."

Completely suspicious at this point, it took all my self-control to keep from staring at the screen rather than glancing up at the two hunters discussing my friend.

Suddenly rising from her chair, Lydia continued to mutter her disapproval under her breath as she went through Allison's closet, but I was too distracted to pay her any mind.

"I know how this might sound, but we need you to keep an eye on her," Chris Argent said slowly.

Heart rate elevating, I knew Allison was just as troubled over this as I now was.

"Y-you want me to spy on her?" the brunette stuttered a bit in disbelief.

"We want you to look out for your friend to make sure everything's okay with her," he responded, both their gazes now fixated on the strawberry blonde strutting over to me.

"Here," a few articles of clothing were thrust into my unexpecting face.

Flinching back, I looked from the black skater skirt and dark blue flannel back up to Lydia's stern face.

"Put those on," she commanded me, hands on her hips. "Cause I refuse to be seen with someone who wears the same outfit twice in one week…"

Sourly staring back up at her, I then heard Allison's amused voice mutter: "She seems okay to me."

Immediately biting my lip, I knew I had to act like the music drowned out their entire conversation, but as the equally stubborn queen bee shooed me to hurry up and change, I caught a glimpse of the brunette's satisfied smirk.

Eyes then meeting Mr. Argent's much less pleased ones, the man crossly left. Shutting the door behind him, Allison then turned to face us and let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Seriously, Charlie, you really need to start making an effort," Lydia continued to scold me as I kicked off my pants and put the skirt on. "It's your third date with Kyle and you literally wear the same stuff every time."

"Third?" I asked, brows furrowed as I untucked the batman tee and threw the flannel on over it.

Counting off on her delicate fingers, the redhead listed off impatiently: "The bowling alley, winter formal, and tonight… _three_ dates."

Frowning a bit as I rolled up the sleeves, I couldn't help but wonder how in God's name Greenberg managed to rope me into going out with him that many times. I guess he had more game than I gave him credit for.

"See, you can still be your grungy self _and _be feminine," she merrily stated, watching me examine the outfit in the mirror as Allison slipped on her own skater dress and cardigan. "Which is good, cause skirts mean easy access and it's date number three."

Catching a devilish smirk spreading across her face, I merely glanced at the two giggling girls in confusion.

"You _do_ know what that means, don't you?" she raised her brows at me expectantly.

Slightly embarrassed, I stated grumpily: "No, I actually don't…"

Hazel eyes widening, the strawberry blonde actually looked aghast as she tried to explain: "The Charlotte York rule?"

Still lost, I looked between both of my companions and simply shook my head.

Now at a loss for words, Lydia merely stared at me with the most heartbroken and mystified of expressions.

"It's a character from Sex and the City," Allison tried to clarify some more, but when the blank expression remained on my face, the strawberry blonde groaned loudly.

"God, you're hopeless!" she cried in exasperation. "On date number three, you have sex," she finally spelt it out, only for me to let out a loud guffaw.

"Yeah, right," I laughed, tugging at the skirt to make it cover a bit more of my long legs.

I had to admit, the outfit wasn't too shabby…

"It's a right of passage," the queen bee practically scolded me whilst Allison merely smirked and shook her head.

I wonder what Lydia and I looked like from the outside, bickering the way we did. One, a fashionable, popular, and stunning socialite of sorts, and the other, a sarcastic loner who hated pretty much everything. We were an odd pairing, which undoubtedly entertained our mild-mannered brunette friend to no end.

"Yeah, well I don't like doing things the conventional way," I replied flatly, swatting at the redhead as she tried to fluff up my wavy black locks.

"When was the last time you had sex?" she crossed her arms, throwing all politeness to the wayside.

Giving her an almost incredulous look, I stumbled over my words: "T-that's, ugh, that's none of your business."

Examining me with the most scrutinizing of gazes, the queen bee's hazel eyes shifted between my own uneasy expression and Allison's inquisitive one.

"Wait," the redhead slowly began. "Are you… are you a _virgin_?"

Taking in how absolutely embarrassing she made that word sound, I couldn't help but protectively blurt out: "N-no!"

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed in shock and awe. "You are!"

"Lydia," Allison spoke up, voice somewhat tense as her own brown eyes took in my flushed face.

"But she so is!" the strawberry blonde continued to babble.

Sweating under both of my companions' somewhat judgy faces, I tried to hide how flustered I truly was: "I'm not a virgin."

Looking at my beyond embarrassed face, Lydia blinked a bit and asked in a low voice: "Y-you're not?"

"No," I muttered grouchily, avoiding their gazes as I threw on the leather jacket Allison gave me and stared at my own bright pink reflection.

Pausing in discomfort, I caught a glimpse of the brunette shooting our redheaded companion a stern look, but Lydia simply couldn't help herself: "Well then… answer my question."

Spinning back around to face her, I snidely retorted: "A lady never tells."

Rolling her bright hazel eyes, Lydia pursed her lips: "Oh please, don't to pretend to be well-mannered now. Spill!"

Unable to hide my annoyance, I gave her a dangerous look, but once I realized she wasn't going to budge, I grumbled: "A while ago, okay?"

"A while ago as in…"

"Like two years, okay?" I snapped.

"Two _years?"_ she echoed my words, voice shrill and expression one of pure pity.

"Yes!" I grumbled, heading towards Allison's door. "Can we go now?"

Giving me an almost apologetic look, the brunette nodded and beckoned our less sympathetic friend to follow.

Quietly moving through the hallway, we crept down the staircase, and as we exited the house, I hoped that we left the conversation behind us.

Only when we jumped into Allison's car did I find out that Ms. Martin was way too intrigued about my vague response to just drop it.

"So is that why you're so grumpy?" Lydia asked, glancing back at me as I slid into the back seat.

"Lydia!" Allison snapped, turning on the ignition.

"What?" she asked, brows raised and voice innocent whilst we backed out of the driveway. "It's true."

Crossing my arms, I bit my lip and chose to try to ignore them, my mind now on the first and only time I actually went all the way.

I was young. Way too young. And stupid. Beyond stupid.

"So what is it? You think you'll be rusty or something?" the strawberry blonde kept pressing as we sped down the road. "It's like riding a bike, Charlie, you never really forget."

"Lydia, I haven't forgotten and I certainly don't need any tips from…" I tetchily began, only to catch Allison's sharp look, silently warning me to keep my temper in check. "Nevermind."

Hazel eyes staring back at me, Lydia pursed her lips and appeared a bit insulted: "Whatever. Just keep on being crabby if that's what you want. I don't care."

And simply shaking my head and rolling my eyes, the redhead and I turned and stared out of our perspective windows, leaving the rest of the ride quiet, with only the faint sound of the radio playing.

* * *

><p>"Could it be any colder in here?" Lydia Martin whined, mood still somewhat turbulent from our little tiff in the car.<p>

"H-here!" Stiles quickly shook off his jacket, almost smacking me in the face as his arms flailed about.

Holding the article of clothing away from her body, the queen bee examined it critically and stated with a disapproving look: "I'm wearing blue. Orange and blue, not a good combination."

"But it's the color of the Mets," the pale kid stared back at her dumbly.

Eyes looking up to the heavens in exasperation, I grouchily walked past the shallow girl and her oblivious worshiper.

I still couldn't grasp why Stiles was so enamored by her. Lydia was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, and her confidence was damn near memorizing, but couldn't he see how haughty she was? I knew there had to be more to her than she let on, and perhaps Stilinski assumed that too, but the whole superficial façade she put on was getting old. _Very_ old.

Sliding onto one of the benches, I started lacing up the skates we swiped from the front desk whilst staring at Scott and Allison flirting off to the side.

"Okay, ugh, maybe orange and blue's not the best," I heard the dork agreeing with the redhead, who was now putting on her own personalized pair of ice skates. "But um, you know… sometimes there's other things you wouldn't think would be a good combination and end up turning out to be, like, a perfect combination, you know."

Clenching my jaw despite myself, I felt an odd tightening sensation in my chest and absentmindedly tugged on the laces so hard that they began cutting off my circulation.

"You know, like um, two people together… who nobody ever thought that would be together… like ever," I heard the earnestness behind his voice, and so stealing a glance at them from the corner of my eye, I took in Stiles staring longingly at the strawberry blonde.

Oh please, don't tell me she was actually buying that crap.

Then, however, her impassive expression became somewhat thoughtful and as her hazel eyes met his glistening caramel ones, my stomach lurched.

"No, I can see that," she nodded, voice soft.

Eyes widening in surprise, I heard Stilinski's heart rate skyrocket: "Y-you can?"

Deep frown now etched on my face, I turned back ahead, glaring at the pristine and shiny white surface of the ice.

Why had I agreed to come?

Greenberg was late and now, here I was, sitting alone and watching the cutest couple on Earth sharing nauseating kisses and hearing Stiles and Lydia possibly start up their own sickening high school romance.

"Yeah, they're cute together," I heard the redhead's smile in her voice.

"Oh… yeah… _them_," disappointment dripped off of Stiles' words. "Cute. Adorable," he muttered in frustration, and as the oblivious queen bee strutted away from him, I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning.

Watching her enter the rink, Stiles slowly trudged after her and as he walked past me, I teased merrily: "I'd say the date's starting off great."

Light brown eyes looking down at my crooked grin, the lanky and pale boy's cheeks flushed even more as he angrily growled: "Shut up. It's all part of my plan."

Cocking a brow, we both watched the redhead taking a few warm-up laps as I quipped sardonically: "You're plan, huh? You may want a plan B… or C… or D… Hell, I'll even help you go up to Z."

Letting out a loud, fake laugh, Stiles clearly didn't appreciate the joke. Then, it was the dweeb's turn to get in a dig of his own: "Speaking of dates… where's yours?"

Smile faltering, I fought the urge to check my phone. It's not like I particularly wanted to spend alone time with Kyle, considering I couldn't even make out with him anymore, but if he ditched, my pride would certainly be bruised.

"On his way," I lied casually, successfully sounding nonchalant.

Still eyeing me closely, I got the sense that Stiles wasn't quite convinced, but as I avoided his gaze, my eyes soon landed on Kyle striding over to us.

Perking up, I immediately stood, unable to keep in my sigh of relief as the tall Irish boy breathlessly walked over.

"You're late," I called, trying to hide the small grin tugging at my lips.

Head snapping around and spotting the newcomer, I could have sworn I heard Stiles let out a low groan.

"Were you worried?" he asked, wide, conceited smile flashing across his freckled face.

Folding my arms, I scoffed: "_No."_

Raising his brows, Greenberg then inquired: "You sure? Cause I'd say you were more excited about tonight then you wanna let on."

Raising a brow, I challenged him: "And what makes you say that?"

Blues eyes drifting from my awaiting face and down my body, my cheeks turned bright pink due to his intensely hungry look whilst Stilinski's strained voiced suddenly piped up: "Is that my shirt?"

Blinking a bit, I looked down at the Batman tee as Greenberg finally acknowledged the pale teen's presence.

Two boys now staring at one another in distaste, I shrugged and responded simply: "Yup. Doesn't it look good?"

Spinning around a bit, I intentionally let the black skater skirt swoosh around my long, toned legs in such a way that made both hormonal boys' pulses quicken.

"Well now I'm definitely a Dark Knight fan," Kyle smirked devilishly, as Stiles contorted his face and let out an annoyed huff.

Currently basking in my rare moment of glory, I then took Greenberg's arm and said: "Come on. I wanna kick your ass for a second time today."

Smiling broadly whilst I dragged him forward, I just barely made out the sound of Stilinski mocking me under his breath, giving me the oddest sense of confidence.

"Since you never skated before, maybe I should give you a few pointers?" Allison playfully asked whilst her and Scott also took to the ice.

"Allison," the tan beta grinned back. "I don't know if this is news to you or anything, but you remember the whole werewolf thing? Super speed, strength, and great reflexes… a little ice skating should be no problem."

Taking in his cocky face, the brunette appeared amused, and after a giggle, she nodded and let him step onto the slippery surface.

"See?" he grandly gestured as he took just one step. "It's no problem."

But just as those words left his lips, the supposedly dexterous werewolf slipped and face planted hard on the frozen ice.

"Smooth, McCall," Kyle teased whilst he stepped over the poor kid lying sprawled out on the frozen surface.

"Hi, Greenberg," Scott moaned whilst Allison and I laughed furiously at his expense.

"Here," I offered my hand, yanking him up with ease. "But I think you should maybe take Allison's offer."

Rubbing his nose, cheeks a bit red, Scott nodded with a sheepish smile.

"Holy," Kyle suddenly blurted out, making us all turn to watch the queen bee effortlessly spinning around like some goddamn Olympic ice skater.

"Is there anything she's _not _good at?" Allison asked, voice bewildered whilst we all gaped at the redhead twirling away.

"No," Stiles' voice sounded from just behind us.

Watching the smug Lydia Martin then skate right over to our group, the strawberry blonde took the enamored dork's hand and led him around the ice, and as I heard his heart skip a beat, my jovial mood immediately dampened.

"Okay, Blades of Glory," the brunette soon took her own hubby's hand. "Let's try this again."

Guiding the clumsy beta around the rink, Greenberg and I were then left alone, and although I was indeed happy he hadn't stood me up, I still couldn't keep myself from stealing glances at Stilinski and Martin.

I knew she just wanted to make Jackson jealous in any way she could, but why did her distraction have to be Stiles?

I mean, personally I didn't care. I just felt bad for him. Here he was, thinking he was actually getting somewhere with her and all Lydia was doing was leading him on. It wasn't right, and being the protective friend that I was, I felt myself growing more and more resentful towards the queen bee.

I couldn't watch it. I wouldn't watch it.

And now, feeling irritated beyond belief, I turned and looked up at the Irish teen: "Wanna get out of here?"

Stunned and slightly confused, he furrowed his brows: "W-what?"

"I want hot chocolate," I lied, trying to keep myself from blatantly staring at the now laughing redhead and pale nerd.

Stomach lurching, I needed to leave.

"Isn't the snack bar closed?" he asked, completely missing the point.

Grabbing his hand, I yanked him off the ice and stated with a mischievous grin: "That's half the fun."

Taking in my words, a crooked smirk spread across his handsome face as I led him from the ice rink.

Truth was, I didn't want hot chocolate in the slightest bit.

I was lonely. And honestly, I _was_ attracted to Kyle.

Maybe Lydia was right. Maybe lusting after him was okay, even if I didn't actually like him, but soon, Allison's chiding words popped up in my brain.

I didn't want to use someone the way Lydia was clearly using Stiles. I didn't want to hurt someone who had genuine feelings. It was wrong and cruel.

Frowning a bit, I stopped in front of the locked rolling gate of the snack bar, struggling between giving into my own selfish desires or my new sense of morality.

"Getting cold feet?" Kyle spoke up, snapping me out of my conflicted thoughts.

"No," I muttered, still staring ahead, my thoughts wrestling between what I wanted to do and what I knew I should do.

"So then what are you waiting for?" he asked, completely unaware about the internal struggle currently going on in my brain.

Suddenly turning around, I looked up into his handsome face and stated: "We should go back."

"I thought you said you wanted hot chocolate," Greenberg was still lost.

"I do. I _really_ do," I looked into those deep blue eyes, my heart pounding.

"So what's the hold up?"

"Cause it's not right."

"Since when do you play by the rules?" he raised a good point with a small grin.

"I mean, I usually don't," I confessed broodingly, brows furrowed. "I do what I want, when I want."

"So what's stopping you now?" I could tell he was slowly catching onto the fact that my words were holding an ulterior meaning. "What's different about this time?"

"Cause I know it's wrong. A-and… and you could get hurt," I stated in a low voice.

Baby blues staring down at my serious face, I heard his heart rate pick up a bit as he took a step closer to me.

"You're worried about getting me in trouble?" he cocked a brow, eyes holding a strange look to them.

"No," I shook my head, trying to find a way to phrase things. "I mean, I guess. Maybe. I don't know."

Taking another step forward, his body was so close to mine that I had to take a step back as my breathing quickened.

God, it had been forever since I hooked up with someone, and mind traveling back to formal, all I wanted to do was give in.

"Then go in there and take what you want," I could see the wheels in his own head turning as he moved closer once again.

Eyes locked, I heard our quickly beating hearts beating almost in sync whilst I moved away, only for my back to hit the locked grate.

Rattling metal ringing out, I felt myself growing hot under his intense stare and my mouth went dry.

"I-I shouldn't," I slowly stammered, taking in his gaze as it traveled up and down my entire body. "I promised I wouldn't do things like that again."

"Well now _I'm_ craving some," Kyle took the smallest half step forward so that there were only five inches of space separating us.

Skin prickling, it felt like the air was electrified and I could no longer deny the sexual tension that Lydia had spoken about.

"I don't know if you should," we couldn't tear our eyes off one another. "It could, ugh, it could burn you…"

Chuckling a little, Greenberg licked his lip absentmindedly as he moved closer and closer, only to whisper: "It could burn you too."

Staring at those lips hovering just centimeters from mine, I shook my head and pressed myself even more against the grate.

"No," I now sounded stern, face grave. "It won't."

Taking in my now beyond conflicted face, Kyle stated: "We're not talking about hot chocolate, are we?"

Running my hand through my hair, I shook my head, words caught in my throat, and as a lustful smirk flashed across his dimpled face, the Irish teen went for it.

I was about to give in. I really was. And it took all of my will power to pull away, but I did.

Turning my head at the last second, I heard him exhale in frustration as I muttered: "No, Greenberg."

"Charlie, come on," his voice was husky as he stepped forward, body now against mine.

Tingling sensation shooting through me, I felt desire leap from his form into mine, causing me to push him away rather forcefully and sternly snap: "I said 'no'!"

Taking a few steps back, the highly irritated boy shot me a furious look before he turned to storm away.

"Kyle," I rushed after him, grabbing his muscular arm. "Kyle!"

"What?" he snarled somewhat rudely.

"I don't want to hurt you," I shared my reasons for denying him honestly, but when all he did was continue to stare down at me harshly, I continued: "I swore to you no more games, so we can't... we can't do that…"

"So what was the point of dragging me out here? What was the point of even going on this date with me?" he demanded, voice severe and eyes stormy.

Temper flaring a bit, I knew I put some of this on myself, but for him to be this uncouth over my refusal to make out with him… it was making me lose what little patience I had.

"Hey, I think we both know this isn't a real date," I spoke the cold, hard truth. "We both wouldn't be here if Lydia didn't set it up."

Clenching his jaw, Greenberg merely glowered at me.

"Okay, I'm not trying to be mean, but I'm not gonna lie either," I stated firmly, and after a moment or two of stiff silence, Kyle's disposition eased up a bit.

"So then what is this?" he asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

"I find you attractive and we have a lot of fun," I responded simply.

Clearly taken off guard by my up front words, Kyle then asked in vexation: "Then what the Hell's the issue?"

"I know you like me."

Laughing uncomfortably as I put him on the spot, Greenberg tried to play it off: "Whoa, someone's a little cocky…"

"Greenberg," I looked up at him seriously, making his awkward smile flicker slightly. "I just… I can't give you what you want, and if we hooked up, it would only lead you on cause that's all it would be for me… a hook up."

Taking in his contemplative face, I couldn't tell how badly my words had hurt him. At least I had finally told him the truth, though.

Slightly disappointed face then lighting up a bit, Kyle raised his brows and sighed: "I guess I can do that."

Furrowing my own eyebrows, I asked in confusion: "What?"

"A smoking hot girl wants nothing but meaningless hook ups? I've heard of worse deals," he shrugged, hornily stepping forward once again.

Hand flying up, I firmly held him off and answered: "Kyle, stop. You deserve better than that."

Looking into my eyes, which held the sincerest of gazes, Greenberg backed off again.

"You must have some serious daddy issues, huh?" he kidded grimly.

Chuckling bleakly, I nodded my head: "You've got no idea."

"Well," he sighed somewhat lightly. "This sucks."

"Yeah," I muttered in agreement before extending my hand. "Friends?"

Blue eyes glancing down at my strangely gracious gesture, Greenberg slowly took my delicate hand and shook it, but the moment our skin touched, that feeling of raw sexual desire flooded back over me, and from the expression on his face, I knew that he was experiencing the same exact thing.

"Right," I immediately let go, cheeks burning. "I, ugh, I need to use the bathroom."

Nodding, his lustful gaze scanned my awkward form once again, and as a crooked and toothy grin spread across his face, Greenberg half-jokingly called after me: "Does this new friendship include benefits?"

* * *

><p>Splashing freezing cold water on my still flushed face, I felt my heart pounding against my chest as the bathroom door opened, allowing a rosy cheeked Allison Argent to enter the room.<p>

"There you are!" she exclaimed excitedly, but once she saw my somewhat embarrassed expression, a knowing grin spread across her face. "What happened?"

"Nothing!" I blurted out, only to try to regain my composure. "I-I mean, what do you mean 'what happened'?"

Brown eyes taking in my uncharacteristically jumpy disposition, the brunette beamed even more: "You and Kyle disappeared for a while."

"Oh, yeah," I shrugged casually, fixing my hair rather than looking at her. "We just talked."

Cocking a brow, the lovely huntress crossed her arms: "Charlie…"

"No, we really did," I became much more serious. "I, ugh, I took your advice."

Walking closer, Allison remained silent as I explained further.

"I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't use him," I confessed with a low, somewhat grave voice. "Not after seeing how Lydia's using Stiles to hurt Jackson."

Small and almost proud smile spreading across her lips, Allison nodded her head, but soon, the restroom door burst open, but rather than a merry addition to our little conversation, a highly peeved Lydia stormed in.

"I've been looking all over for you two!" she snapped testily, hands on her hips.

"The place really isn't that big," I remarked evenly, hiding my amusement over how worked up the redhead seemed to be.

Clearly not welcoming my callousness to her apparent plight, the strawberry blonde continued to pout: "I expected Allison and Scott to run off, but then you disappeared too!"

"Greenberg and I wanted to see if the snack bar was open," I shrugged impassively.

"You left me all alone," the queen bee continued to sourly whine.

"But Stiles was there," Allison furrowed her brows, also not following what was up the bombshell's ass right now.

"Exactly!" she growled impatiently, now fixing her lip-gloss in the mirror.

Temper flaring up almost immediately, I could no longer contain myself.

"Are you kidding me?" I sharply hissed, eyes narrow.

Glancing back at me with the most innocent of expressions, the perplexed redhead asked: "What?"

Glancing at Allison's slightly nervous face in utter disbelief, I turned my full attention onto the queen bee: "I get Stilinski's a hyperactive and dorky spazz. I do. The kid drives me up the fricken wall, but he really likes you, and not just cause he wants to get in your pants," I passionately scolded the uppity teen. "Yeah he's a little strange, but he's a good guy… better than most, actually, so quit being rude and start being grateful you're on a date with my friend!"

Speechless, Lydia's mouth was opened slightly as her hazel eyes darted between my fuming face and Allison's equally stunned one.

"O-okay," the redhead's voice was low and apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'll make more of an effort to be nice."

Somewhat shocked that the strawberry blonde seemed so genuinely repentant, I gave her a curt, yet satisfied nod and as the shamefaced queen bee retreated from the restroom with her tail between her legs, I turned to find the oddest expression on the brunette's face.

"What?" I asked, brows raised, still slightly on edge.

"Charlie, I'm _so _sorry!" she seemed beyond remorseful for absolutely no reason.

"Why?" I asked, completely puzzled.

"I-I made Lydia go with him to formal… and now tonight?" she paced about the bathroom a bit, voice rushed and strained. "Oh my God, I'm such a horrible friend!"

Watching the guilt-ridden brunette freak out, I demanded: "What are you talking about?"

"I mean Scott sort of mentioned it, but I always thought it was just a little crush," she rambled on as another hot flash began to set in.

What the Hell was she getting at?

"Charlie, I swear, if I knew…"

"Knew what?" I cut her off, my voice and body extremely tense.

"I-I just… I had no idea how much you liked him," her brown eyes stared at me as if begging for forgiveness.

Practically jumping back, my eyes widened as I vehemently shook my head and denied in the highest of voices: "Whoa! Me? Like… like _Stiles_?"

Loud laugh emitting from my throat, I was at a loss for words. I mean, it was absolutely preposterous!

"He's just a good friend. That's it," I swore, but the brunette was now merely looking back at me with the most disbelieving of expressions.

"Seriously," I continued to babble, chuckling uneasily. "Me and him? That would be a train wreck waiting to happen… I'd probably end up killing him he's so annoying!"

Raising her brows, Allison brushed some of her brown, curly locks from her smirking face as she softly voiced her skepticism: "Charlie, you don't need to lie. Scott and I both see it."

"I'm not lying!" I cried, heart now racing and cheeks burning more than ever before. "I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of feeling that way towards, well, anyone…"

"He calls you Charlotte," Allison crossed her arms, voice matter of fact.

"W-what?" I stuttered, unsure as to why I felt so flustered.

God, that close call with Greenberg and confrontation with Lydia had worked me up!

"Stiles is the only one you let call you by you're full name," the brunette repeated herself.

Mind traveling back to all of the past conversations I had with the lanky nerd, I tried to recall whether or not that statement held any weight, but quickly assuming that she was wrong, I simply shook my head.

"No. I hate that name. No one calls me that."

"He does."

"Well if he did, I didn't hear it," I stubbornly countered.

"What? You're supersonic werewolf hearing couldn't pick up on it?" she inquired disbelievingly.

Shooting her a warning look, I only managed to open my mouth, for the moment I was about to snap at the irritating and presumptuous human, a blood-curtailing scream rang out, making Allison and I freeze.

Eyes widening, I breathed: "Lydia…"

Sprinting from the restroom, we rushed into the rink, only to find Scott and Greenberg gaping at the disturbing scene unfolding in the center of the ice.

There, hugging her knees and hazel eyes fixated on some invisible object below the icy surface, was the tearful and petrified redhead, still yelling bloody murder whilst a worried Stiles helplessly held her.

* * *

><p>Shaken by what we had experienced that night at the ice rink, Stiles and I had spent another long evening researching anything and everything about werewolf bites and possible explanations for the strawberry blonde's strange behavior.<p>

Needless to say, like every other time we tried to find answers, Stilinski and I came up empty-handed, leaving us both frustrated and exhausted, and so, pulling my third all-nighter in a row, I was beyond irritable.

Rubbing my tired and puffy red eyes, I watching Stilinski yawn loudly and pop two extra Adderall, immediately making mouth water.

Closing his locker and throwing his backpack over his shoulders, the kid's caramel eyes landed on my staring ones.

"Can I please just have _one?" _I asked for the tenth time today, voice and expression desperate.

Obviously seeing just how tempted I was, Stiles dry swallowed his medication with the loudest of gulps, only to cough a bit.

Slapping the kid's back rather gruffly, I awaited the human to catch his breath.

Wheezing out his response, the lanky teen sputtered sternly: "No. No pills."

"It's not Xanax or Vicodin," I prodded, staring up at him with the biggest puppy dog look I could muster. "I'll be fine, I swear. I just need a pick-me-up."

Glancing down at me, Stilinski stifled yet another yawn and simply shook his head: "Nope."

"Stiles, I'm dying here!" I complained, my head throbbing and lids drooping more and more with every step we took.

Making a face, the boy with blotchy pink cheeks glanced around, only to spot some kid named Jared drinking a cup of coffee.

Eyes lighting up, he raised his brows at me with a devious grin, only to bounce over and put his arm around the painfully shy kid's shoulder.

"Jared, buddy," he grinned as he pulled the nervous teenager with thick glasses closer to him. "How's your morning going?"

"G-good?" the kid with slightly greasy brown hair stammered as his face grew paler and paler.

Smirk growing more and more demented and creepy, Stiles asked: "Whatcha drinking?"

"Um, coffee," Jared's shifty eyes anxiously darted from the clearly amused Stilinski to my impatiently watching face.

I was too tired and cranky to even care what was going on.

"Ah, America's most addictive drug," the lanky dork continued keep his squirming hostage close to his body. "Did you know that drinking coffee can lead to heart disease and high cholesterol?"

"N-no…"

"Oh yeah, and it also gives people irritable bowel syndrome and ulcers, but only if they worry a lot," he continued, only for Jared's brown eyes to widen.

Grinning even more, Stiles feigned surprise: "Wait a minute, don't you have that problem?"

Heart beating quickly, Jared nodded, causing Stilinski to go on: "So you know, you really shouldn't be drinking that."

Looking from the cup back up to the eccentric teen infringing on his personal space, Jared squeaked: "If I give it to you, will you leave me alone?"

Twinkling light brown eyes examining the profusely sweating teen, Stiles nodded and swiped the cup right from the boy's hand, but before Jared could even let out a sigh of relief, Stilinski clapped the kid's back and cheerfully stated: "Just looking out for you, buddy!"

And then, proudly bounding back over to me, the pale dork thrust the cup into my extremely bored face.

"Thanks," I said wryly.

Crooked smirk still plastered on his face, I simply shook my head at his antics and tried to stifle my own smile.

"Two's not enough for Derek. I know he needs at least three. So who's next?" I suddenly heard McCall's voice from down the crowded hall.

Furrowing my brows, I craned my neck, ignoring Stilinski as he asked me what I heard.

"Why does there have to be a next when we've already got you and Charlie?" Erica's sensual voice cooed from somewhere down the packed corridor.

"Who's next?" Scott demanded once again.

"What's going on?" Stiles hissed loudly, only making me reach out and pinch his lips together, silencing the grumbling boy.

"You know, I never knew what I looked like during a seizure until someone took a video of me once and put it online…"

"I don't care," Scott responded harshly, determined to get an answer from the wily new beta.

Hand being slapped away, my hyperactive companion rubbed his mouth as he followed me down the hall.

"It happened during class. I started seizing in my desk and everyone was saying how they should put something in my mouth, until some genius reads the card on my key ring which tells him not to cause it could break my teeth," I finally spotted the blonde bombshell blocking Scott in by the water fountain.

"Erica…"

"And you know what happens next. I know you do… I piss myself and they start laughing," she moved closer to him, bitter smile on her face as she leaned in and whispered into the tan teen's ear. "You know, the only good thing about seizures was that I never remembered them."

Stopping at the corner of the quickly emptying hallway, Stiles and I watched on as Ms. Reyes' cold brown eyes continued to pierce into McCall's uncomfortable ones: "Until some brilliant jerkoff had to go and put cameras in everybody's phone, but look at me now, Scott."

Deep red lips brushing against his ear, I watched the boy cringe and I could only ball my fists in anger, yet soon, all three of us werewolves caught the scent of someone else watching the inappropriate scene.

Pulling away, Erica grinned wickedly as her eyes landed on the silent Allison Argent, just standing at the foot of the stairs.

"That's right," she smiled, voice loud and almost mocking. "You only have eyes for her."

Kissing his cheek and leaving a lipstick stain, Reyes then flipped her long blonde curls and turned on her heel, slinking down the hallway. Pausing in front of Stilinski and I, her lustful gaze was fixated on my companion.

"Hi, Stiles," she eyed him like a piece of meet.

Heart beating erratically, I noticed him trying his hardest not to steal a peep are her overly exposed cleavage, only making me that much more annoyed at the shameless blonde standing in front of me.

"E-Erica," he tripped over his words, voice thick and uncomfortable.

Satisfied smirk tugging at her plump lips, her eyes then flitted over to me.

"And you must be Derek's darling baby cousin, Charlotte," her voice held a hint of scorn.

"It's Charlie," I growled, nails digging into my palms.

"Sure. Whatever," she rolled her eyes before continuing. "I have a message for you."

"Well don't keep me waiting," I responded, words dripping with sarcasm. "The anticipation's killing me."

Face twitching slightly, Erica flashed the fakest of smiles: "Your cousin wants you to reconsider what side you're on."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm gonna have to pass," my voice and expression were so overly sweet that it almost made me cringe. "But thanks for the offer."

And after the blonde and I stood there, shooting daggers at one another, the bell rang, ending our strained face off.

* * *

><p>"I know how it looked, but she came up to me," Scott's apologetic voice was so low that it was barely audible over the chatter in the cafeteria.<p>

"I'm not jealous," Allison responded calmly, her own words barely over a whisper.

"You're not?" the tan beta sounded surprised, and as I fixed my fourth cup of coffee in the last two hours, I glanced back at my lunch table.

There, sitting alone, was McCall with his back to his secret girlfriend's. Allison's mother was now working at our school as Beacon Hills' secretary, making it even harder to hide their ongoing affair.

"She's with Derek now, isn't she? Like Isaac?" she asked, voice worried, but when Scott didn't respond, the brunette added: "You can't get caught in the middle of this… don't you feel what's happening? My grandfather coming here, Derek turning Erica and Isaac, it's… it's like battle lines are being drawn."

My own stomach churning over how ominously true those words were, I immediately lost what little appetite I had.

"I know," Scott muttered whilst I stared down at my plate of grilled cheese in disgust.

"There's always crossfire."

Frowning, I dumped the lunch I had just purchased into he trash and headed towards my table, sipping on the piping hot coffee.

"What am I supposed to do? I can't just stand by," McCall valiantly argued, like the heroic and selfless person he was. "I can't pretend to be normal."

"I don't want you to be normal," the brunette responded darkly. "I want you to be alive."

And as I heard Scott let out a heavy sigh, Allison stood up just as I arrived, her brown eyes now fixated on my face: "That goes for you, too."

Then, grabbing her bag, she threw it over her shoulder and headed to sit across the room with Lydia, Danny, and a couple of other students.

Sliding onto the bench beside the highly distracted Scott McCall, I watched the pensive beta thinking long and hard about how absolutely screwed this entire situation was becoming, and to be honest, I couldn't blame him.

"Scott," I spoke up, making his troubled brown eyes meet my steady ones. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

Nodding, the kid tried to force a smile, but I could tell my words did little to reassure him.

Scott wasn't like me. Such a statement could never ease his mind, for he was always worried about keeping everyone safe. If it were up to him, we'd try to save the entire world from all pain and suffering, and although it was a noble cause, I couldn't say I felt so strongly. I wasn't remotely as altruistic.

Sure I'd do whatever I could to prevent unnecessary death and destruction, but the only people I would actually stick my neck out for were my friends, and so, although I could live without risking my life for the entire county, I knew Scott wouldn't rest until he thought Beacon Hills was safe once again, and therefore, neither could I.

"Scott. Charlie," Stiles clumsily sat down opposite us, eyes wider than usual. "Do you guys see that?"

Glancing over to where the lanky boy was jerking his head at, Scott furrowed his brows and responded slowly: "What? It's an empty table…"

Just as slow on the uptake, I took a gulp of coffee and tried to think of a connection, but Stilinski impatiently asked with a rushed voice: "Yeah, but _whose_ empty table?"

Light bulb going off in my brain, McCall and I looked at one another in both realization and alarm over who Derek's newest Beta probably was.

"Boyd."

* * *

><p>Heart racing, I rushed out of the computer lab and back outside to where Scott and Stiles were anxiously keeping watch.<p>

Propped up against the door when I suddenly opened it, Stiles practically fell through, but Scott grabbed his energetic best friend before he could knock the papers out of my hand.

Ignoring Stilinski's usual spazztic behaviors, my eyes scanned the hallway, making sure no one was around as I whispered excitedly: "Got it. Let's go."

Quickly moving down the corridors, I handed them each a copy of the information I stole, all while Stiles continued to just stare at me, expression somewhat baffled.

"What?" I hissed, just wanting to exit the building before anyone could not only catch us skipping school early, but also possessing confidential district files.

"You just did that really fast," he remarked, face impressed.

Chest swelling slightly, I couldn't help but feel proud of myself. It had been a while since I felt comfortable using my hacking abilities, especially since my failure at formal almost cost Stiles his life. Now, however despite the urgency of our current situation, I felt a small amount of confidence returning to me.

Feeling my cheeks burning a little bit under Stilinski's still awestricken gaze, I quickly cleared my throat and waved him off.

"Its the school's file system, not the Pentagon" I played it off with a light laugh.

"Yeah, but Gerard sound-proofed the office and put cameras everywhere," Stiles pointed out thoughtfully. "You'd think the guy would have better firewalls, you know?"

"He's a hunter… not Tim Berners-Lee," a sarcastically responded as we reached the main entrance.

Pausing with a puzzled expression before he pushed the door, Scott asked: "Who?"

Glancing at the blank looks on both boys' faces, I didn't have the patience to ask how neither of them knew who the Hell the creator of the World Wide Web was, so I simply opened the doors and sighed: "Nevermind."

Jogging down the front steps, I then got back to the topic at hand: "Scott, you check the ice rink. Stiles, you go to his mom's place, and I'll see if he's at his grandmother's."

And as Scott nodded in agreement, Stiles slowed down his pace.

Pausing in the middle of the parking lot, McCall and I glanced at one another and saw a somewhat conflicted look on Stilinski's face.

"What?" Scott asked, brows furrowed.

"Maybe," Stiles started slowly, "we should let him," but when he saw his best friend and my incredulous faces, the pale nerd quickly continued explaining: "It's Boyd… you know, man? You said Derek's giving them a choice, right?"

"You can't be serious," I commented flatly, whilst Scott nodded in agreement.

"You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good," Stiles responded thoughtfully, only to give a more unnecessary elaboration: "You know, the word 'sensational' comes to mind…"

Silently shaking my head at his obvious arousal, Scott then asked in a shrill voice: "How good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?"

Face falling at how gravely true that statement was, Stiles' shoulders slumped: "All right… all I'm saying is maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility."

"They all are," Scott then pressed onward, expression somber.

"Scott, you know this thing's gonna get out of control," I warned just how much pressure he was really putting himself under.

"Yeah, and that makes me responsible," he wasn't backing down, basically vowing that it was his job to save everyone.

Glancing at Stiles, we both knew there would be no convincing him otherwise, so the gawky boy sighed and nodded: "All right, I'm with you."

And as we reached the blue Jeep, Stilinski clapped his still serious best friend's shoulder, joking sarcastically: "And I also gotta say this newfound heroism is making me very attracted to you."

Breaking out into a smile, Scott knocked Stiles arm away and laughed: "Shut up."

"No, seriously," Stiles continued with a deadpan voice: "Do you wanna just try making out for a sec? Just to see how it feels?"

Giggling despite my best efforts not to, I then shook my head and yanked Stiles to the car whilst Scott hopped on his bicycle: "All right. Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you don't want more cookies?" Boyd's sweet grandmother, Olivia, offered for the thousandth time.<p>

Shaking my head, I forced a smile on my face as I subtly gagged at the thought of even looking at another one of those delicious baked treats.

I had gone to Mrs. Thompson's house to see if her grandson was around, but because she was so thrilled to 'finally meet one of Boyd's school friends', she had guilted me into entering her home for some fresh double-chocolate chip cookies.

And after about 45 minutes of fruitless small talk, the only thing I found out was that the quiet boy in my grade visited her everyday after school, did his homework, and then left to go to work.

I even excused myself, saying I needed to use the restroom, so that I could snoop around the tiny, quaint home, but I still came up short.

Nope. Boyd wasn't here, and as I quickly glanced at the slowly setting sun, I knew that he had skipped his daily visit, which couldn't mean anything good.

"No thank you," I politely declined. "I really should be getting home. Thanks for your hospitality, Mrs. Thompson."

"Honey, I thought I told you call me Nana Liv," she chided me from where she was standing in the doorway.

Chuckling a bit, I nodded and grinned: "Yes, you did. Sorry. It was really nice meeting you, Nana Liv."

"You too," the older lady with flawless mocha skin waved as I walked down the steps. "I'll tell Boyd you stopped by!"

Turning over my shoulder, I simply smiled back, deciding that telling her not to would only draw suspicion.

Then, taking off down the street, I checked my phone. No messages.

Assuming that both McCall and Stilinski came up empty-handed like I did, I headed back towards the blue Jeep parked about five blocks away, but as I was walking, I felt the strangest prickling sensation creep up my spine.

Sensing that I was being watched, I looked around as I continued on my way back to Stiles' car, but as the sun dipped below the trees lining the distant horizon, all I saw was a vacant, shadowy street.

Shoving my hands into my leather jacket pockets, I pressed forward, ears peeled as I tried to tell myself that I was just paranoid.

I was stressing so much lately, and with my withdrawal and severe lack of sleep, it was natural for my emotions and abilities to be on edge, but to be honest, I had actually felt pretty good all day.

I mean, yeah, certain people and situations irked me, as per usual, but physically and mentally, I felt in control, even with the fatigue. So feeling that ominous sensation again certainly perturbed me.

Ignoring the increasingly crushing sensation coming down on my chest, I exhaled deeply, and as I rounded the corner I saw Stilinski's musty and dinged up blue vehicle, but he was nowhere to be found.

Brows furrowed, I couldn't help but feel a bit worried.

Boyd's mother's house was dark, and after standing still and listening for a minute or two, I concluded that the residence was empty.

Cool breeze rolling across the street, I felt my hairs stand on end.

Heart racing, I tried to focus on finding the irritating dweeb rather than the nagging sense that I had someone or something following me.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and it only took a moment or two for me to catch that familiar sweet, minty scent.

Eyes narrowed, I walked around to the side of Boyd's house, sniffing the air, and as I made my way through the cluttered and quickly darkening alleyway, I noticed a large dumpster.

Tentatively and silently walking over, the pungent smell of rotten garbage masked Stilinski's scent. A bit anxious, I was all ready somewhat jumpy, and so, hand hovering over the handle, I contemplated whether or not my unpredictable senses led me to my friend or whatever had me so spooked. Regardless, I understood I needed to open the dumpster and find out what was moving around in there, but before I could do anything, the lid flew up.

"Bitch!" a dirty Stiles popped up grumpily, rubbing the bright red raspberry on his forehead.

Jerking back a bit, I couldn't help but giggle once I saw the awkward teen pull a brown banana peel off of his shoulder.

"What are you doing in there?" I asked in amusement, watching Stilinski pull himself out of the stinking dumpster, only to fall onto the ground.

Scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off, Stiles nonchalantly shrugged: "Oh you know… just hanging out," but when his caramel eyes took in my unphased expression, the lanky, pale boy flailed a bit in exasperation: "Erica threw me in here!"

Nodding as we headed back to the Jeep, I offhandedly remarked: "We should probably just kill her all ready…"

Eyes widening, Stilinski gaped at me as he opened the hood of his Jeep: "We're not gonna kill her."

Taking in his raised brows and disapproving expression, I merely shrugged and sighed: "Fine."

I mean, candidly, Erica Reyes was beginning to be a problem. Isaac was turned and just ran off, but she was sticking around, making threats, and even assaulted my friend. She needed to be taken care of.

Sulking at the car part in his hand, Stilinski stared glumly into the engine block of his vehicle, muttering under his breath.

"What's that?" I asked, still highly entertained by his smelly and dirty form.

Looking from the metal car part in his filthy hand and back to me, the bitter teen griped: "I don't know, but Erica pulled it out and bashed me in the face with it."

Biting my cheeks, I could barely stifle my snorts whilst my sour companion shot me a look.

"Still don't want me to kill her?" I kidded, but as Stiles continued to sternly look at me, I stopped.

Slamming the hood down in annoyance, the energetic teen paced about, probably contemplating how he'd pay for the repairs, and as he walked to and fro, running his hand over his short dark brown hair, he turned to me and abruptly asked: "Why didn't you think it was weird I was in the dumpster?"

Pausing a bit, I then reflectively shrugged: "I don't know… you're a strange kid, who does strange things… I don't see a point in asking anymore…"

Large brown eyes looking back at me, I could tell that the hyperactive dork was mulling over how to take my honest response, but after a second, Stilinski merely nodded his head in understanding.

Turning back to face his defiled vehicle, Stiles morosely griped: "This is gonna cost me a fortune. Between the repairs and service fees…"

"Don't forget the tow truck," I added, but as Stilinski began whining even more, I heard a faint hissing sound.

Heart practically stopping, goose bumps rose all over my skin as I wildly asked: "D-did you hear that?"

Glancing up from the car engine to my freaked out face, Stiles slowly shook his head, expression one of concern: "Hear what?"

"That noise," I breathed, turning around and scanning the still environment. "That hissing noise…"

"I didn't hear anything," Stilinski's voice was calm enough, but I could tell I was scaring him a bit.

Biting my lip, I continued to peer around, but there was nothing to be seen.

"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes fixated on my tense form.

Nodding stiffly, I forced a smile as I tried to explain my odd behavior: "I'm just tired. Three nights of no sleep, my mind's gonna play some tricks on me."

Heart racing as quickly as mine, I sensed how anxious I was making the boy, but before I could try to reassure him some more, I heard it again, but this time, it was much louder.

Wheeling around, eyes as wide as saucers, I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

"Charlie?" Stiles now seemed even more shaken.

"I gotta go," I muttered, gaze locked on the spot where I could have sworn I saw a dark figure dart behind one of the houses.

"Charlie, there's nothing out here," Stilinski pressed, voice somewhat strained.

Feeling drawn to that spot, my legs were carrying me forward before I even registered what was happening, and as Stiles called after me rather stressfully, I glanced back at the kid: "I gotta check something out."

"You're just gonna leave me here?" he yelled back, tone now somewhat annoyed.

"Just call the tow-truck," I responded, mind foggy as my body drifted after the mysterious creature I kept seeing and hearing. "I'll call you later."

"Charlie!" Stiles' voice was vexed, and as I slipped behind the home and into the pitch-black alleyway, I heard the nerdy and peeved teen shout even louder: "Charlotte!"

* * *

><p>The entire journey of my tracking an enigmatic shadow seemed like a dream. I couldn't tell you how I wound up at Beacon Hills' animal clinic, or even what time it was when I arrived there. All I did know was that the second I snapped out of that trance-like state, I was standing outside of the dark animal hospital with the most unsettling of feelings.<p>

The hissing was now a high-pitched ringing in my ears and as I slowly made my way towards the front door, I felt every inch of my body growing stiffer and stiffer, as if I were becoming paralyzed.

Trembling hand hanging over the doorknob, I felt compelled to go inside. It was like my body and subconscious understood the necessity of my venturing into Deaton and McCall's place of work, but my mind was screaming to just turn around and go home, for I was also aware that once I did step foot inside, I was going to be met with something bad.

Inhaling deeply, I mustered up as much courage as I could, even telling myself that I was being paranoid.

Everything was still and quiet, so how bad could it really be in there?

Just as I was about to go inside, however, the sound of heavy footsteps quickly approaching made me freeze, and soon, hearing the familiar and angry voice of Chris Argent whilst the knob turned, I felt my stomach lurch.

Eyes darting around, I only had a split second to find a hiding spot, and leaping up and grabbing onto the rain gutter, I hoisted myself up and into the safety of the darkness just in the nick of time.

Holding my breath, I stared down as Chris and two of his hunter companions stepped out into the parking lot, halting their conversation whilst their suspicious eyes looked around, no doubt having saw at least my shadow as they opened the door.

Soon, however, the three unfriendly men returned to what they were previously discussing, the heavier set of them gruffly stating: "We'll be picking up the body before sunrise."

Body?

Interest peaked, I leaned forward an inch or two more, peering down at the three figures.

"Okay," I heard Deaton's calm voice from the doorway below me, "But I can't promise you I'll have any answers."

"Oh, I think you will," the other man threateningly growled, dark eyes staring at the unseen vet.

I could hear how erratic their hearts were, and as I examined the blood and mud caking their bodies, I had a sinking feeling that whatever happened to them tonight was soon going to involve me.

Accidently leaning on the gutter too much, the metal gave way, making the faintest of creaking noises.

Chris' icy blue eyes shooting right up to where I was still hidden, I shut my eyes tightly, mentally chastising myself for my clumsiness.

"It's late, and since you want me to have the body prepared in a manner of hours, I suggest you go home, rest, and let me work," Deaton politely told them to leave.

Gazes back on the most likely impassive animal doctor, Mr. Argent curtly nodded and said stiffly: "That's fair. We'll be seeing you at 5am."

"I look forward to it," I could hear the sarcasm underlying Deaton's civil farewell, and as all three hunters stalked off, jumped into their SUVs, and sped away, I felt myself relax quite a bit.

"You can come out now," the African American veterinarian called up to me, taking me completely off guard.

Contemplating whether or not to just stay still and let him think he was hearing things, I quickly decided against it, figuring I was led here for a reason, which most likely involved that cold corpse sitting inside.

Hopping down from the roof with ease, I took in Deaton's cool face, and the man merely grinned as he greeted me: "Nice to see you again, Charlie."

"How'd you know I was here?" I cut to the chase, seeing no need for small talk.

Unphased by my rudeness, Deaton merely replied: "I make a point of noticing when werewolves come onto my property."

Somewhat frustrated over his continual vagueness, I probably shouldn't have gotten my hopes up about getting a straight answer from the man.

Watching him head back into the clinic, the bald doctor then turned back over his shoulder and asked with a coy smirk: "Are you coming?"

Eyeing him closely, I silently stepped inside and shut the door behind me. I knew Scott trusted the guy, and he had proven to be somewhat trustworthy, but the fact that I couldn't quite pin him down also made me uneasy.

Following Deaton into the back, we entered one of the dimly lit examination rooms where a young African American male was lying on the metal gurney, torn apart, insides spilling out, and parts of his guts chewed up and missing.

It was a grizzly sight indeed, and as I speechlessly stepped closer, eyes wide and stomach doing flips, I couldn't help but gag.

"He's… so young," I managed to get out in between my dry heaves.

"23," Deaton sighed sadly, scanning the body.

"I've… I've never seen anything like this," I was unable to hide my shock and horror, and as I leaned over the mutilated corpse, I sniffed.

Nope. No recognizable scent.

"Neither have I," Deaton remarked, brows furrowed and expression equally as troubled.

Glancing up at him, I watched the doctor take a pen from his pocket and swab a small scratch on the back of his neck, picking up some sort of thick and stringy clear liquid.

"What is that?" I asked, cocking my head to the side whilst he let the mysterious, goopy liquid drip into a small vile. "Saliva?"

"Maybe," he answered, capping it and then holding it up into the light to examine it. "Your guess is as good as mine until I run some tests."

Storing it away, Deaton then turned back to the body, using a ruler to measure how long those claws had to have been to inflict so much damage.

"You know a wolf didn't do this, right?" I mostly stated rather than asked.

Deep brown eyes meeting my inexpressive ones, the man smirked a bit: "You're a lot more perceptive than the three men that were just in here."

"Let me guess, they blamed one of us," I snorted resentfully, knowing full well that werewolves were an easy scapegoat at this point.

"The two younger ones did, but Chris seemed fairly certain it couldn't have been a werewolf," he recalled thoughtfully.

"Oh wow," I feigned surprise. "An Argent _not_ pinning everything on a werewolf… how refreshing…"

Closely watching me as my blood visibly began to boil, Deaton softly recited: "We humans fear the beast within the wolf, because we do not understand the beast within ourselves."

In a horrible mood all ready, I had little to no patience to deal with the vet's ambiguity.

"What?" I asked rather boorishly.

"Gerald Hauseman said that in one of his famous dissertations on Native American folklore," Deaton placidly explained, again unaffected by my impolite nature. "That's why hunters hate werewolves so much, because they see themselves in them."

Shaking my head, I wasn't following why this was even relevant to our conversation, so I grumbled under my breath in vexation: "What are you talking about?"

"That need to kill, that's a very dark, very human primal urge, and subconsciously hunters understand that," the man reflected out loud, face grave. "They fear it because they see that in themselves."

"Interesting theory," I retorted flatly, dragging a chair over to the table and taking a seat. "But from my experience hunters hate us cause we're all a bunch of blood-thirsty animals."

Observing the look of self-loathing on my face, Deaton gently asked: "Don't you think that's a bit of an overgeneralization?"

Slumping further down into the chair, I watched him continue his examination of the body and shook my head: "Not from my experience."

"But not all wolves turn out to be vicious, evil creatures," he argued, brows raised. "Surely experience has also taught you that."

Mulling over the vet's words, I countered cynically: "No, not all of us are evil, but at one point or another, we all take a life… we all become killers."

"So you agree that all werewolves should be hunted down and slaughtered?" he inquired, clearly finding errors with my pessimistic reasoning. "You condone this genocide that's taken so many of your loved ones?"

Conflicted, I knew that he was raising a good point, but I also saw first hand the pain one malevolent wolf could inflict on so many.

"I'm not saying that," I responded slowly, face troubled. "But I mean, if the roles were reversed, I'd want me dead too."

"So you really think you're one of the bad ones?" Deaton's expression and tone of voice were heavy and almost filled with pity.

Frowning, I felt all of my deep seeded self-hatred rising to the surface as I bleakly confessed: "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the one in this room with the highest body count."

Putting down his tools, Deaton gave me his undivided attention: "Yes, but not for the reasons that you think."

Again, slightly unnerved by how calm he seemed to be while discussing my deadly history, I attempted to play everything off as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh really?" I challenged the human staring at me from across the gurney. "Cause I thought Deltas were the most brutal and ruthless of the pack… you know, the animals."

"They are and they aren't," Deaton said simply.

"Well that's very enlightening," I folded my arms, voice tart and expression sour.

"Do you remember what I said about Deltas? How they're the closest thing to real wolves?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, still not following. "So?"

"So when was the last time you heard of a wolf killing for the sake of killing?" he inquired, brown eyes watching my highly puzzled form fidgeting in front of him.

Pausing, I stumbled over my words as I tried to recall any case of that: "Ugh, I-I don't know… but I'm sure there have been plenty of cases."

"Actually, there hasn't been. Wolves only attack when provoked. Whether it be hunting for food or protecting their territory or pack, they only take a life when its necessary," I knew that those factual words held a deeper meaning to them, but when I simply elected to stare back at him in silence, Deaton suddenly put me on the spot: "Why did you take those three lives, Charlie?"

Unable to tell whether it was the fact that this man somehow knew about the people I've killed or just the simple mentioning of it, I tried to brush off how shaken I truly was.

"I don't know," I defensively mumbled.

"I think you do," he pressed, eyes boring holes into me so deeply that it felt as if he was staring into my tainted soul.

Guilt coursing through my veins, I then blurted out: "I lost control, okay? I lost control like I always do!"

Pausing for a moment or two, I could see just how sorry Deaton felt for me, only causing me to grow that much more upset.

"You may have blacked out and let your subconscious take over, but nothing you did was random," the oddly omnipotent veterinarian declared.

"So what are you saying?"

"That hunter you killed over a year ago… what was his name? Jim Elkins?" the African American man brought up the name that had haunted my dreams for so long. "Why did you kill him?"

Heart sinking, it took all I had to keep from choking up: "It was the anniversary of the fire and I… I was drunk and upset…"

"And you didn't just bury a close friend of yours?"

Eyes widening, I felt a lump growing in my throat as I asked in a shaky awe-filled voice: "H-how do you know about…"

"When someone is cut completely in half, news spreads, even if it happened across the country," Deaton cut me off, and although his pulse was steady, I still sensed that he was lying or leaving something out.

Thick silence befalling us once again, I avoided Deaton's deep, probing brown eyes as I stared at the body, mind traveling back to that awful evening.

"You mistook that hunter for Gerard that night, didn't you?" his voice was low and even.

"When… when we found Juan's body, I caught Gerard's scent, and a couple days later when I was completely trashed and on edge, I smelt it again," my words were thick, eyes welling up with burning, remorseful tears. "B-before I knew it, I turned and I… I couldn't stop myself…"

"You thought it was him."

Sniffling, my mouth was dry as the lump within my throat grew even larger: "H-he was just wearing his jacket," my words quaked as I practically whispered. "He was innocent…"

"He was a hunter, just like Gerard," Deaton's voice was smooth, consoling even.

"Still, he didn't kill Juan," I bitterly spat, my self-loathing taking over.

"That doesn't mean he wouldn't have," the vet's expression was calm, yet sorrowful.

Unable to meet his eyes, I bit my nails and weakly asked: "Can we just drop this?"

"You still don't understand, do you?"

"Oh, I understand completely," I passionately stood up, body vibrating with rage as my blazing eyes glared at him. "I'm a ruthless killer! I get it!"

"Nothing you did was ever out of cold blood," he shook his head solemnly. "Everything you did was for love."

Scoffing over the man's crazy assumptions about my character, I merely shot back: "You're delusional."

"You killed that man because you mistook him for Gerard, the hunter that tortured and killed a beloved friend," Deaton stated firmly, his eyes now burning. "You murdered that other human in the woods because subconsciously, you recognized him from the night of the arson. And the nurse you attacked in the hospital, it was to protect Stiles, am I right?"

Pausing, I was once again taken aback by how much this human seemed to know, but beyond that, the fact that he could stand here and basically condone all of those horrific acts, as if they were completely acceptable, I could only stare back at him in bewilderment.

"Charlie, you may lack control over your physical abilities, but you don't relish in the kill," Deaton tenderly voiced his personal assessment of my character. "Like a real wolf, you only attack when provoked. You only harm those who threaten you and your loved ones," the human continued to explain whilst my mind traveled back to all of those times I was willing to take a life for those I held most dear, regardless what it would actually do to me. "You make the difficult, but necessary choices that no one else can because you're the guardian, Charlie. You're the True Delta."

Last sentence making my entire body go still, I merely stared into Deaton's unwavering brown eyes, and from the look of determination in his face, I could tell just how much he believed those words.

But how wrong he was… because _me_? The true delta? That was just beyond laughable. It was actually a sick joke.

I wasn't this strong, loyal, and selfless little wolf. I wasn't inherently good like he seemed so certain I was. And I definitely wasn't a hero.

Deaton had the wrong delta, but just as I was about to prove him otherwise, the door to the examination room burst open, with a torn up and bloody Scott McCall stumbling in.

"Oh my God! Scott!" I rushed forward, catching the limping and weak beta as his knees buckled. "What happened to you?"

Eyes taking in his wincing and battered body as I guided him to the chair, I felt the immense pain he was experiencing shoot from his body and into mine.

Peeling back his blood-soaked and sticky shirt, the tan teenager revealed a large and extremely deep claw mark and Scott panted in agony: "Why isn't it healing?"

Immediately realizing who had to have done this to him, I darkly stated: "Because it's from an Alpha."

Then, taking a step back, I watched Deaton tend to my severely wounded friend and pack mate, my mind reeling as their conversation faded away to nothing.

My cousin, the one whom I would have died for in a heartbeat, the one that swore up and down that he had only killed Peter to avenge Laura's death, was now a mere shadow of his former self.

Derek wasn't Derek anymore.

He was twisted and warped by power, and although I tried for weeks to deny it, I now understood that I could no longer look past the harsh reality.

Derek had become the monster my father used to be.


	7. Chapter 7

**AHHH! Have I ever told you guys how _AMAZING_ you are?! If not, ummmm _y'all are DA BEST_! The feedback last update was spectacular, and hearing my writing/storytelling wasn't the cause of the dwindling comments, well that certainly took a load off my mind!**

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SEVEN: TEAR YOU APART 

"They're coming back, we don't have much time to talk," Deaton rummaged around the cabinets, clearly looking for something as the young beta grimaced in pain.

"I can't believe Derek did this to you," I growled, examining the deep lacerations in my friend's side for the third time.

"It's just a cut," Scott tried to sound reassuring, having clearly saw just how upset I was. "I think he was doing it to prove something to the others… like reminding them that he's the Alpha."

"Yeah, and apparently a power-hungry sociopath," I vibrated with anger, but as I glanced up from the still bleeding claw marks to McCall's chocolate brown eyes, my rage was immediately replaced with guilt.

"You never would have gotten ambushed like that if I hadn't suggested we split up," I somberly shook my head, voice heavy.

"We needed to find Boyd," Scott reminded me, tone of voice soft.

"Yeah well that was too little too late," I spat bitterly, feeling beyond disgruntled that I had failed, yet again, to keep my cousin's destructive tendencies at bay.

"Lift your shirt back up," Deaton quickly returned, holding a cloth and bottle.

"What is that?" Scott asked whilst I backed a way to let the mysterious vet work.

Glancing from the questionable looking bottle and back to McCall's anxious face, Deaton smirked a bit: "Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected do you?"

Shaking his head 'no', Deaton then began dabbing the burning disinfectant all over Scott's ribs, making the tan teenager hiss in pain.

"You'll heal the same, just not as quickly because…"

"Because of Derek," I darkly finished the balding doctor's sentence from where I now stood next to the dead hunter's mutilated body.

Glancing at me quickly, McCall then turned his attention back onto his boss: "How do you know this? How do you know anything?"

Perking up slightly, I put aside my enraged thoughts about Derek to focus on the conversation at hand.

I had often asked Deaton how he knew so much, but I always came up short. Perhaps Scott would have better luck than I ever did.

"It's a long story," the African American man responded cryptically, but once he noticed my and Scott's unsatisfied faces, he added: "I _can_ tell you, I know about your kind."

"Our kind?" I asked, practically challenging him to confess more.

Brown eyes drifting over to my direction, Deaton nodded, only for his gaze to land on the stiff lying next to me: "This… this is something different."

Standing up with a wince, Scott pulled his shirt back down and hobbled over to join us as we stared down at the grizzly body: "Well, do you know what did it?"

"No," he shook his head. "But I have a feeling the Argents will… and soon."

Immediately glancing at the clock, I knew sunrise was a good ways away, but the way Deaton phrased that, it led me to believe that our time was even more limited than he previously stated.

"And this is the crucial part," he looked to both McCall and I as if he was instructing us about something extremely important: "They will have a record or book with descriptions... histories, notations, of all of the things they have discovered."

Eyes wider than usual, Scott's pulse rose a bit as he looked between his boss and I with a slightly alarmed expression: "_All_ of the things? How many different things are there?"

Remembering just how little this new beta understood about our darker reality, I opened my mouth to divulge some of the unsettling truth, only to hear multiple large vehicles pull up into the animal clinic's parking lot.

"Someone's here," I muttered, brows furrowed as I listened to about four different people's footsteps. "And they brought friends."

"It's probably the Argents," Deaton whispered back, quickly grabbing the bloody cloth and rubbing alcohol to stash it away. "Hide."

Opening his mouth to try to say something else, I immediately grabbed Scott and dragged him into the spacious supply closet with me, making it just in time as the door to the examination room swung open.

"I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'closed' sign," Deaton stated, voice and expression composed.

I had to hand it to the man… nothing ever seemed to fluster him…

Pressed up against the doors, Scott and I peered through the small crack between them and watched as an unfriendly looking Chris Argent and his two companions silently filed in. Glancing at my anxious friend, we then heard a colder, much more worrisome voice join in on the conversation.

"Hello, Allen," Gerard Argent appeared from the shadowy hallway, beady eyes glinting. "It's been a while."

Hearing Deaton's pulse rise slightly, I got the feeling the veterinarian disliked the white-haired hunter just as much as I did, and as my mind searched for a possible reason for the human's hatred towards the hunter, Gerard continued: "Last I heard, you had retired."

"And last I heard, you followed a code of conduct," Deaton shot back, voice even.

Taking in Gerard's clenched jaw, I knew the man hated being disrespected, but noticing how tense the situation was quickly becoming, Chris gruffly defended his father: "If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours."

Gaze flitting over to Mr. Argent's piercing blue eyes, Deaton nodded: "I did. And I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his finger tips." Clearly having stumbled upon something the hunters didn't want to be discussed, they all stared back at the vet in stony silence as he continued: "Don't assume I will be swayed by the philosophy because you raise a couple of questions."

"He was only 23," Chris argued, eyes holding such a look of pain and mourning behind them that it surprised me.

"Killers come in all ages," Deaton replied flatly, brown eyes staring directly at Gerard's smugly grinning face.

Yup. He definitely hated that guy, and from the looks of pure loathing being exchanged, it was definitely for reasons more complicated than simple personal differences.

"All ages, sizes, and shapes," Gerard coolly remarked. "And it's the last one that concerns us."

"How about you tell us what you found?" Chris nodded to the young man's disgusting and mangled body.

Nodding, Deaton walked over and turned the dead hunter's neck: "You see this cut? It's precise, almost surgical. But this is not the wound that killed him," he divulged with his usual dramatic flair. "This had a more _interesting_ purpose."

"Relating to the spine," Gerard thoughtfully stated, and I could see the wheels turning in that demented brain of his, giving me the feeling that he knew a Hell of a lot more than we all did.

"That's right," the veterinarian nodded, voice slow. "Whatever made this cut, it's laced with a paralytic toxin, potent enough to disable motor functions. These, however," he pointed to the massive claw marks that tore into the man's chest and stomach, "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side."

"Five for each finger," Mr. Argent mumbled under his breath.

"Each claw," Gerard corrected his son, black eyes suddenly moving to the closet Scott and I were silently concealed in.

Jerking back a bit, McCall and I literally held our breath as we glanced nervously at one another.

Had he seen or heard us? Or was it just a coincidence.

Regardless, Deaton must have spotted the old hunter's odd stare, for he soon spoke up: "As you can see, it dug in, slashed up and eviscerated the lungs, slicing through the rib cage. On top of more… unsavory of attacks."

"Have you seen anything like this before?" Chris Argent asked, expression slightly troubled.

"No," Allen shook his head, voice heavy.

"Any idea at all?" Mr. Argent pressed, gaze steady though his heartbeat was racing.

"No, but I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render its victims helpless within seconds," Deaton's brown eyes held a hint of worry.

"You're saying we should be cautious?" Chris almost laughed. "We get it."

Not finding any of this amusing, the African American veterinarian stated gravely: "I'm saying you should be afraid. Be _very_ afraid," the atmosphere of the room became dense and ominous as he continued: "Because in the natural world, predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey, but this prey was not eaten. That means whatever killed him only wanted to kill him… in fact, killing may be its only purpose."

And as Deaton and his four hunter guests exchanged disquieted looks, Scott and I glanced at one another, each of our hearts sinking in our tight chests.

I had definitely been led here for a reason, and now, I just realized how dire of a reason it had truly been.

* * *

><p>Having waiting a good half hour after the Argents and their hunting party left, Scott and I bid Deaton farewell before heading back out into the night.<p>

Mind racing, we both walked along the main road in stiff silence, combing over what this new monster could possible mean for us.

We had enough to deal with considering my idiotic older cousin was turning unstable teenagers into werewolves left and right, and the impending war with the Argents certainly didn't bode well for us, so now learning that these killings were the result of some impossibly strong, appallingly scary creature, well, McCall and I were obviously overwhelmed.

"Have you heard from Stilinski?" I finally broke the heavy silence, eyes focused on the cellphone screen that still showed no missed messages or calls.

Limping beside me in his blood soaked shirt, McCall winced as he checked his own phone and simply shook his head: "No. Why?"

"No reason," I blurted out a little too earnestly, causing the teen to smirk at me. Cheeks immediately growing flushed, I then swiftly added: "It's just, um, it's just been a while since I heard from him."

"You said Erica trashed his car," Scott reminded me calmly. "He's probably taking care of that."

"For four hours?" I asked skeptically, my brows raised.

Truth be told, I knew how I sounded to the young beta, but I still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Stilinski was always the person to send incessant text messages on a good day, let alone when we were trying to affirm something as important as Boyd being the new beta.

Eyeing my worried expression and hearing my most likely erratic pulse, Scott's face grew uneasy.

"Do you think something happened?" he asked tentatively.

Frowning, I tried not to unnecessarily worry my companion with my neurotic paranoia: "I mean, probably not, but when was the last time he just patiently waited for an update?"

Mind playing with my very valid point, Scott then asked: "Did you try to call him?"

"Pretty sure you would've seen me step away to make a phone call," I replied honestly, causing the tan teenager to nod his head.

I could tell that I was now worrying him, but there was something else going on behind his unusually serious face. Then I remembered that McCall had plans tonight. He had been talking about it all day, whilst I tried my best to ignore him, for adolescent relationships were never my favorite topic of discussion.

Feeling someone guilty for sullying what was supposed to be a good evening for him, I quickly said with a bright expression and tone of voice: "Hey, I'm sure he's fine. I'll check the auto-shop and you go on that super secret and nauseatingly romantic date you had planned with Allison."

Looking at me with a conflicted expression, I could tell Scott was still uneasy about just going off to have a good time with his girlfriend, and understanding that I was the one to put such unreasonably pessimistic thoughts into his head, I knew I had to remedy the situation.

Forcing the most convincing smile onto my face to date, I raised my brows and sincerely stated: "McCall, you barely get to see her. Go have fun, and I'll keep you posted, okay?"

Breaking out into his contagious, dimpled grin, Scott's heart practically skipped with excitement as he jovially thanked me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes with a light chuckle before playfully tugging at his crimson-stained shirt: "But you may wanna change first."

Chocolate brown eyes drifting down and taking in the truly horrific sight, Scott sheepishly nodded his head.

"Right," and as the boy took off, clearly feeling much better due to the prospect of seeing Allison, he quickly added over his shoulder: "Just call me, okay?"

"Yes! Now get going! It's almost 9!" I beamed cheerfully as I shooed him away, but once the beta disappeared onto the shadowy short cut to his home, my smile fell.

The moment McCall actually agreed to go on his date, I could have sworn I heard that eerily familiar hissing noise, and doing my best to seem unshaken so that the kid could go have a normal night for once, I knew that something somewhere was going to go terribly wrong.

I just hoped it didn't involve that gangly, defenseless dork.

* * *

><p>The sky had opened up and thick, bone-chilling raindrops had drenched me through by the time I got within a mile of the auto-repair shop.<p>

Leaping from tree to tree, I couldn't help but regret my decision to only wear that thin leather jacket, maroon shorts, and black and white tribal tank. Then again, I didn't quite plan on running around half the county this time of night during a storm.

Vision hazy from the pelting rain, I blinked furiously as I struggled to keep a firm grip as I quickly swung from one branch to the next, but the moment I spotted the disconcerting sight of flashing blue and red lights just ahead, my stomach lurched.

Halting to a stop, I tried to listen to the sound of the various loud voices over my heavy breathing and pounding rain, but the moment I picked up the sheriff's frantic voice asking for his son, I felt my body go numb.

Oh God no…

Distracted and panicked, I slipped and fell from the slick bark, tumbling down and down, only to land in a puddle of freezing cold rainwater.

Icy liquid snapping me out of my momentary paralysis, I took off, sprinting the last 5,280 feet as fast as I could. Tripping over the slippery and wet rocks, the auto-shop finally came into my line of blurry sight, and once my eyes landed on the dozen cop cars and single ambulance, I felt myself grow sick.

"I told you, I just walked in and saw the thing on top of the guy, that's all," I finally heard Stiles' strained voice over the chaotic noise.

Letting out a loud sigh of relief, I finally allowed myself to slow down, having made my way clear across Beacon County in record time.

Gasping for air, I put my hands on my head as the Sheriff's concerned voiced asked: "What's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing," I heard the perfectly safe kid lie. "Can I just get out of here now?"

"Look, if there's something you don't think you can tell me…"

"You think I am lying?" Stiles cut his father off defensively as I gradually made my way closer, now spotting the Stilinskis sitting beside one another in the back of an ambulance.

Getting a visual confirmation that both of them were, indeed, unscathed by whatever horrific event had taken place tonight, I still felt the need to send Scott an urgent message. So quickly pulling out my phone, I wrote a text and hit 'send' just as a body bag was wheeled out of the store.

"No, of course not," John shook his head, face firm but eyes soft. "I'm just worried about you."

I could hear Stiles' anxiously beating heart, and although he was trying his very best to seem fine, I knew that the pale teen had definitely witnessed something beyond unpleasant.

Interpreting his son's silence the same way I was, Mr. Stilinski continued to try to ease his only child's mind: "Now, if you saw someone do this, if you are afraid maybe they'll come back and make sure you don't say anything about it…"

"I didn't see anything," Stiles cut his old man off as his caramel eyes finally looked up. "At all."

Still unsure of whether or not to believe him, the sheriff merely gazed back at his boy's steady stare.

"Now can I go, please?" he raised his brows, voice impatient and face tired.

Nodding his head, Mr. Stilinski slowly rose with a slight groan: "Sure."

"Jeep?" the dorky kid eagerly looked around, no doubt excited to leave Beacon Hills' most recent crime scene.

"Gonna have to impound it," John stated, but once Stiles let out a loud outburst of aggravated syllables, the officer of the law patted his sour kid's shoulder: "Sorry kid, evidence. See you at home."

Face extremely disgruntled, Stiles quickly called after his father: "All right… well, at least make sure they wash it!"

And as his dad went back inside the taped off repair shop, Stiles Stilinski grumbled to himself and ran a hand over his head, annoyed and exhausted brown eyes finally meeting mine from where I silently stood just behind the row of squad cars.

Immediately standing up, his composed façade dropped as I rushed forward, ducking under the yellow 'caution' tape. Visibly shaken, he seemed even paler than usual, and his body was trembling even more than my shivering one, and as we reached one another, all I could do was breathlessly ask over and over: "Are you okay?"

Nodding, his face was stiff as we stood toe-to-toe in the pouring rain, and my heart ached for the shell-shocked and unnervingly quietly kid.

I felt absolutely horrible for the poor guy. It was clear whatever had happened was terrifying, and it was my fault he was alone.

Yet again, a friend got hurt because I wasn't there…

"Stiles, answer me," I was still panting as I looked up at him pleadingly.

Words finally registering to him, the lanky boy with flushed cheeks blinked, only to jerkily nod his head: "Y-yeah. I'm… I'm fine."

I knew that he was just trying to appear brave, but based on his erratic pulse and the look behind those usually bright brown eyes, I understood just how big of a lie that was.

He had so much to process ever since Scott turned, and he had been trying his hardest to adjust, but there was only so much fear and anxiety a person could deal with. It was a crushing weight. One that slowly suffocates you as you helplessly hold on, and I knew it too well.

Suddenly lifting my arms, I went to hug him, but the moment we both registered what my body was involuntarily doing, I froze. Cheeks growing hot under his puppy-dog stare whilst my hands hovered in the air, I then awkwardly patted his shoulders.

Odd and slightly confused expression plastered on his face, I quickly stepped back and gruffly brushed some soaked hair from my drenched face: "I-I, ugh, I'm glad you're okay."

Catching a small, appreciative smirk tugging at his lips, I avoided his gaze as Mrs. McCall's car zoomed into the parking lot.

"Oh, good!" I practically cried, "Scott's here."

Screeching to a halt in front of us, I still felt Stiles' stare burning holes into the back of my head, but I merely jumped into the backseat of the vehicle and tried to tell myself that all of these crazy emotions I had been experiencing were the residual effects of my withdrawal.

"You okay?" Scott's deep brown eyes darted from his best friend to me as I stared out the window, gnawing on my nails.

Not even answering the question, Stilinski said darkly: "You were right."

Puzzled, Scott furrowed his brows as his buddy continued: "It's not like you guys."

"You saw it?" Scott practically gasped as we drove down the road back towards the Stilinski residence. "What did it look like?"

Forgetting my odd and highly embarrassing behavior from just before, I leaned forward, listening intently at the first lead we've had on this mysterious and deadly monster all week.

"Its eyes were almost like… reptilian," Stiles recalled, voice flat. "T-there was something about them…"

"What do you mean?" I inquired, mind traveling back to the strange hissing sound I had been hearing all day.

"You know like when you see a friend in the Halloween mask?" he looked between his best friend and I. "And you feel like you know who it is, but you can't figure it out?"

"Are you saying you know who it is?" McCall raised his brows in shock.

Expression now extremely anxious, Stilinski then slowly shared the highly unnerving news: "No, but I think it knew me."

* * *

><p>"So you think it's some kind of reptile?" Allison asked me quietly as we sat outside at one of the tables.<p>

Eyes darting around the sunlit, crowded school courtyard, I turned back to face my brunette companion and divulged my thoughts in a low voice: "Stilinski said its eyes looked like it belonged to one, and didn't you and Scott say that it made a hissing noise?"

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, pretending to jot some notes in her notepad.

"Well I heard it too," I confessed, flipping absentmindedly though my newest book about computer viruses.

Instantly looking up, Allison's brown eyes were wide as she whispered: "You did?"

"Yeah, last night. Right around the auto-shop," I stated, only to add: "But what's weirder is that when this thing killed that hunter… it used a paralytic toxin…"

Too stunned to even ask how I knew this information, Allison mused out loud: "So its poisonous."

"Yeah, and you know what else is poisonous? A _lot_ of reptiles," I couldn't help but be a bit excited over how things seemed to be falling into place.

Sure my forced study sessions with Stiles weren't doing much for my grades, but they certainly helped with my investigative skills.

Our brainstorm, however, was soon interrupted by an extremely out of breath Stiles Stilinski, who had been forced to relay messages between the star-crossed lovers all free period.

Cheeks blotchy and flushed, Stiles plopped clumsily down on the bench beside me, practically knocking my book off the table.

Giving him a slightly peeved look, I simply rolled my eyes as he huffed and puffed the latest memo from Scott: "Deaton thinks… that your family… keeps records," his breathing slowly steadied. "It's called a bees… bestiary."

Both of us amused over how flustered he was, Allison raised her brows and laughed lightly: "I think you mean bestiality…"

Grin immediately fading, I shot the girl an incredulous and somewhat disturbed look as Stiles shook his head and responded wearily: "No. I mean beast-i-ary," he sounded it out before referring to the love-birds with a disgusted expression: "The two of you… I don't wanna know what's going on in your heads."

Unable to contain myself any longer, I burst out into furious giggles, only earning myself an annoyed look from the brunette.

I mean, come on… could she blame me? _Bestiality_? Goddamn…

"Okay," she spoke over me. "Describe this thing."

"It's probably a book. Old, worn out," Stilinski thoughtfully stated.

Eyes lighting up, Allison clearly had an intimation as to what he was talking about: "Like… bound in leather?"

Perking up, we all exchanged enthusiastic looks as the lovely girl continued: "I've seen my grandfather with something like that."

Shooting up from his seat so quickly that he fell backwards off of the bench, Stilinski flailed a bit, rolled over, and ran back off into the school, not even caring to brush the dirt from his backside.

Hysterically laughing at the spazztic dork, I shook my head and watched him disappear into the building and begin sharing the information with McCall. The moment I took my eyes off of the two teenagers standing in front of the window across the courtyard, however, I turned to see Allison giving me the strangest look.

Smirk fading, I immediately asked: "What?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Allison feigned ignorance as she responded simply, "Nothing." But from the smug little grin tugging at her lips, I knew she was definitely thinking about _something_.

Before I could bark at the irritating brunette, however, Stiles came bounding back over to us, even more breathless than before: "W-where… where… does he keep it?"

Biting her lip a bit, Allison contemplated where someone like Gerard would keep something so precious, but after a moment or two, she looked up at the sputtering nerd and answered tentatively: "It has to be somewhere in his office."

"Office," he repeated between coughs, only to take off once again, slipping a bit over some dead leaves in the process.

Biting my lip to keep from revealing just how entertaining I found his antics, I quickly caught the same, maddening look of the young huntress' face.

"Oh my God," I groaned, giving her an impatient look as I sharply demanded: "_What?"_

"You're gonna get mad…" she trailed off, voice high and filled with delight for irking me so much.

Raising my brows, I matched her tone of voice in a mocking way and responded: "I'm all ready mad…"

Mischievously sparkling brown eyes darting from my tartly awaiting face to the pale kid bouncing back towards our table, I finally caught onto what was going through that dense little mind of hers.

Opening my mouth to, once again, voice just how wrong she and Scott were about my relationship with Stilinski, my words got caught in my throat as he bumped right into me, needing to grip the table-top for support.

Pursing my lips, I ignored Allison's sniggers and concentrated on the clouds drifting across the sky, figuring that was at least a safe place to look.

Sucking in as much air as possible, the sweating teenager shook Scott's old inhaler violently, only to take the largest puff from it that I had ever witnessed.

Pink cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, he was still holding his breath as he uttered: "You know, drug dealers have been using disposable phones for years."

"I can't send a picture of it to you guys," she explained, shooting down McCall's plan to most likely avoid personally breaking into Gerard's office. "My parents check every e-mail, call, and text message I send. Trust me, they'd find it."

Looking as if he were now about to pass out, the blue-faced teen let out a loud, exaggerated exhale: "All right. Can you get the book?"

"Not without his keys," Allison replied with a troubled frown.

Blood clearly having rushed back to his brain too quickly, the equally disappointed Stiles suddenly swayed a bit, took a dizzy step back, and let out a low: "Whoa."

"Probably shouldn't have taken that with Adderall," I nodded over to the inhaler in his currently shaking hand.

Caramel eyes landing on my humorous expression, the loopy dork breathed flatly: "Thanks for the warning."

Crooked grin spreading across my face, I quipped back: "Don't mention it," and after Stilinski gave me one last, unamused look, he darted back off to figure out a new plan of action for acquiring the bestiary.

Practically hearing Allison's wide grin, I didn't even need to look at her as I growled: "Don't even start."

"Why can't you just admit it!" she leaned forward and yanked my book away from me, taking away my only viable distraction.

Huffing in vexation, I looked up at my relentless companion with an impassive face: "Give it back."

"Only when you admit you like Stiles!" she persisted somewhat loudly.

Hot flash sweeping over me, my eyes quickly darted over to the window where McCall and Stilinski were talking, and once noticed Scott's chocolate brown eyes steal a glance at his girlfriend and I, I quickly hissed: "_Shut up_!"

Hoping to God it was just a coincidence that McCall had looked over at us, I tried to tell myself that since I could barely hear their conversation, the young beta didn't catch the preposterous accusation Allison shot my way.

But why should I care if he heard? Or what the both of them even thought, for that matter…

It was completely stupid and absolutely untrue!

Yanked the book out of her hands, I grumpily tried to find my spot again, but the brunette sitting across from me couldn't drop the subject.

"No one's paying attention to us," she pressed, but once she caught my irritated nod over to the window, she grinned: "Oh, Scott? Don't worry, he sees it too."

"No he does not," I objected through clenched teeth, feeling myself growing more and more antsy. "Cause there's definitely _nothing_ to see."

Letting out a loud, disbelieving laugh, Allison shook her braided head and sighed: "You're so in denial."

"Denial?" I finally looked up, closing my book with a loud, impatient 'snap', but soon Lydia Martin's interested voice piped up from just behind me.

"Who's in denial?" she asked, practically making me fall over in my seat.

"Charlie," Allison grinned playfully whilst I glowered at her, silently seething.

"Ooh, about what?" the redhead asked, setting her books on the table as her hazel eyes lit up with excitement.

She always did love some juicy gossip, but unfortunately for her there was none to be had.

"Nothing, cause I'm _not_ in denial," I stated rather tensely, unable to hide just how worked up I currently was.

"She's got a crush," Allison oozed, clearly taking great joy in my misery.

Almost letting out a pained groan, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples as the queen bee clapped in exhilaration.

"Aw! Who's the lucky guy?"

"No one," I moaned, brain pulsating from my newest splitting headache. Eyes then drifting down to the pink leather gloves covering her tiny hands, I quickly saw my opening to redirect the discussion: "What's with the gloves?"

Glancing down at them, Lydia was now the one to seem flustered, but like me, she was able to quickly shake it off.

"It's a fashion statement," she haughtily responded.

"You look like Michael Jackson," I retorted flatly, making Allison snort a bit.

Shooting us both disapproving looks, the somewhat suspicious queen bee snapped: "And _you're_ trying to change the subject," she called me out, immediately making Allison re-focus her attention. "Now who's this stupid boy you're pining over?"

Completely aware that there would be no ending the conversation now, I let out a heavy sigh and did the only thing I could think of to save myself from further humiliation.

"Fine," I caught Allison's highly surprised look as both girls awaited my confession with baited breath. "You guys were right. I've been a little lonely lately and just… I just want someone to like me back for once…"

Eyeing me closely, I knew Allison wasn't quite buying my sob story, but Lydia quickly ate it up.

"Oh, Charlie," she cooed sympathetically. "I'm sure there's someone out there for you."

"I don't know," I continued to play the highly insecure teenager card, milking it as I forced a fake sniffle. "I mean, I haven't met anyone that I really like yet, but still… i-it would just be nice to feel… w-wanted…"

And while Lydia's empathetic hazel eyes grew rather glassy, I shot Allison a smug look before continuing to play everything off like the pro I was.

"You just need a confidence boost," the redhead compassionately stated as Allison rolled her eyes.

Trying to act sad at this point was hard, considering how much fun it was to turn the tables on my brunette companion, but somehow I managed a weak: "You think so?"

"Yes, I do," she stated confidently.

"But who would want me?" I tried to sound as pathetic as possible. "I mean… even you said I'm hopeless."

Guilt suddenly flashing across her porcelain face, the strawberry blonde clearly felt bad, but soon she flipped her hair and responded sharply: "Oh, what the Hell do I know? My boyfriend dumped me and hasn't even tried to have break-up sex."

Biting my cheek, I stifled the urge to laugh, considering the strawberry blonde was actually being quite open about her turbulent relationship with Jackson.

Before I knew it, though, Lydia had bent down and given me an uncomfortable hug, only to quickly stand upright and state stiffly: "Well, I have my appointment with the counselor. Talk to you girls later."

And after the redhead gave me one last, awkward look, I sensed that that uncharacteristically tender display of affection was her way of apologizing to me.

Small smirk forming on my lips, I felt a new appreciation for the unemotional girl, knowing just how hard something so simple as a hug could be, but the moment I noticed Stilinski staring at Lydia now strutting past him in the hallway, I felt my chest tighten.

I may not have been the vulnerable mess I had just portrayed myself to be, and I certainly wasn't in need of a confidence boost, but a distraction on the other hand… that sounded just lovely…

"Where are you going?" Allison's eyes darted from Stiles and back to me as I threw my books into my bag.

"I have my appointment soon, too," I excused myself.

"Yeah, at the end of next period," the brunette knowingly called my bluff.

Turning back to face her as I threw the white tote bag over my slender shoulder, I raised my brows: "Is it?"

Giving me a hard look, I could tell she was onto me: "Charlie…"

Flashing her a crooked and cheeky smirk, I then called over my shoulder: "See yah!" and took off across the grass, mind now focused on only one thing.

Moving through the packed hallways, I only had about two minutes to find him before the bell rang, and so, maneuvering in and out of the crowds of students, I craned my neck, searching for my target.

Finally spotting him at his locker next to the art room, I strode over with an odd sense of determination, and just as he closed the padlock and turned around to head to the last class of the day, I pushed him into the empty classroom.

"What the Hell!" Greenberg was beyond startled by my aggressive behavior, but as I shut the door and locked it behind me, I turned and looked up into the handsome boy's extremely mystified blue eyes. "Charlie?"

Walking right up to him, I grabbed Kyle by the back of the neck as I went on my tippy-toes and firmly instructed: "Don't overthink this."

And before the Irish teenager could even voice his confusion, I assertively pushed him against the teacher's desk and kissed those dumbfounded and slightly parted lips.

* * *

><p>"So, Charlie, how've you been?" Ms. Morrell's softly inquired from across her desk.<p>

Drumming my fingers on my chair's armrests, my face was still flushed from rushing to this forced meeting, and as I stared at her patiently awaiting face, I evenly responded: "Spectacular."

Raising her brows at me, the African American woman with sleek, dark brown hair simply stated: "This won't work if you're not going to be honest."

"I am being honest," I continued to challenge her, expression one of boredom.

"One word from me to Sheriff Stilinski about how uncooperative you've been and we'll have to involve the principal," her voice remained pleasant as she threatened me.

Temper flaring, I sat still for a moment, trying to tell whether or not she was bluffing, but considering all I wanted to do was keep Gerard from figuring out that I was far more than just Allison's new friend from New York, I decided to swallow my pride and play it safe.

Leaning back in the chair, I crossed my arms and gave her a dirty look whilst growling: "Fine."

Smiling with satisfaction, the almost unreadable guidance counselor uttered: "Good, so you'll stop fighting me."

"Sure," I shrugged, trying to appear aloof again, though it did unnerve me that the human seemed to know exactly what string to pull to get me to comply. "I'm an open book."

Gaze steady, Ms. Morrell then repeated her first question of today's interrogation session: "How've you been since our last visit?"

Inhaling deeply, I idly bounced my leg and impassively remarked: "Haven't been sleeping much, anxious all the time, and been having nightmares like when I was a kid…"

"About what?"

"I don't know," I instinctively replied, but when the young teacher gave me a stern look, I sardonically jibed: "Maybe my mom dying or my entire family burning alive. Childhood PTSD's usually left undiagnosed in this country, you know."

Taking in my cold, arrogant sneer, Ms. Morrell ignored my usual attitude as she benignly affirmed: "You have had quite a traumatic childhood. Not to mention that you had to move all the way across the country recently."

Never having been a fan of receiving anyone's pity, I continued to respond in my usual detached manner: "Life's a bitch, but hey, all that crap's over now so…"

"Is it?" she cut me off, gaze unwavering whilst I merely stared back at her in inexpressive defiance. "Your cousin recently died, and her brother, Derek, was the one arrested for her murder," she brought up yet another fond family memory from my more recent past, clearly hoping for some sort of reaction. "Must have been quite difficult to handle on top of the move."

"Yeah, well lucky for me I'm used to taking care of myself," I calmly replied, still showing no crack in my icy exterior.

Picking up a pen, the prodding women then asked: "How so?"

Gaze drifting down to that manila folder lying under her thin arm, I raised my brows lazily: "Look, I'm sure you've got my entire bleak life story in that file, starting from when my oh-so-devoted father walked out on my pregnant mom," my voice then dropped to a disrespectful snarl: "So why don't we just skip to the part where you put that stellar college degree of yours to use and psychoanalyze me."

Unruffled by my rude jab at her, Ms. Morrell simply grinned a bit, opened the folder, and obediently skimmed my history.

Silently watching her, I felt my blood boiling. She seemed pleased with herself for getting me to show any type of genuine feeling, and now all I could do was mentally kick myself.

Christ, my emotions were all over the place!

"So you have abandonment issues," she finally looked up, unnervingly piercing brown eyes observing my every uncomfortable movement.

Picking my nails nonchalantly, I gave my jaded answer: "Sure, I guess you can say that."

"Is that why you avoid relationships and push people away?"

Eyes narrowing, I stared right back into Ms. Morrell's inquisitive face and simply confessed: "I generally attribute that to my deep-seeded hatred of anyone stupid, which unfortunately goes for most people in Beacon Hills."

Not falling for my deflection, the young African American woman kept the hard-hitting questions coming: "And it has nothing to do with your fear of trust and intimacy?"

Feeling my defenses going on high alert, I still needed to maintain my composure. This human was stupidly prying into things she shouldn't and I needed to make sure I sounded like any normal teenage girl with a troubled past. The last thing I wanted was to raise any unnecessary suspicion.

Flipping my hair in the exact, boastful manner that Lydia often did, I grinned wickedly: "Hey, I can be intimate. I was _really_ intimate about a half hour ago."

Clearly catching the innuendo alluding to my recent steamy hook up with Greenberg, the resolute counselor clarified: "I meant emotionally."

Haughty grin flickering, I stonily stated matter-of-factly: "Well that… like trust… needs to be earned."

Having directed those harsh words at the attractive young language teacher, Ms. Morrell merely nodded in understanding: "True. So why did you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, growing impatient with each passing second.

"Get intimate with someone when you just stated you don't remotely like anyone here?"

Looking away from her sharp gaze, I lethargically picked some lint off of my black high-waisted shorts. "I have my reasons."

"Is it because you _do_ have attachments to people, but you're too afraid of acting upon such feelings and thus find a need to use someone else as a distraction?"

Icy chill running up my spine, I had zero clue as to how this goddamn woman seemed to know exactly what was running through my mind. I mean, she was definitely off about the whole 'having strong emotions to people' part, but using Kyle for a distraction was dead on.

"Maybe I was just bored and horny," I looked right into her eyes, face and voice even. "Does that make you uncomfortable? Me saying I'm horny?" I then asked somewhat irreverently, hoping to transfer my discomfort onto her. "I know public schools are supposed to preach abstinence and self control."

Casually shaking her head, Ms. Morrell, yet again, did not respond how I had hoped.

"No. I believe that exploring one's sexuality is a very important part of growing up."

Irritably blowing some hair out of my face, I looked out the window and muttered under my breath sarcastically: "That's very progressive of you."

"I just can't help but wonder if there are other ways to keep yourself occupied," she thought out loud.

"You mean like exorcising or concentrating on my studies?" I disgruntledly rattled off the other, useless suggestions I heard. "Cause I've tried those options and none of them did much help." Mind then traveling back to how Greenberg and I were tearing each other's clothes apart no more than 30 minutes ago, I grinned slyly: "Besides, I find this new method way more fun."

"How about joining a club or sports team?" she recommended offhandedly. "Those are fun and much more productive."

Brushing off her dreadfully wholesome ideas, I yawned: "I get social anxiety."

"You seem to be making friends just fine," Ms. Morrell countered my excuse as she noted: "I always see you with Miss Martin and Argent."

Making a face, I admitted half-heartedly: "Yeah, they're nice…"

Catching my pause, the perceptive counselor pushed: "But?"

"They're just different than I am," I confessed the honest truth, cause I mean, I was literally Lydia's polar opposite, and Allison and I… well we were pretty much supposed to be mortal enemies. "They don't quite…"

"Understand you," Beacon Hills' nosiest faculty member finished my sentence.

"No," I firmly replied.

Scribbling some notes down as I now played with the zipper on my leather jacket, the attractive young woman proceeded: "How about Mr. Stilinski?"

Tensing up, most likely from the extremely exasperating ordeal I had underwent with Allison that very afternoon, I testily asked: "What about him?"

Eyeing me closely, Ms. Morrell explained: "You two obviously spend a lot of time together since you've been taken up a residence at his home."

"Yeah, but I'll be leaving soon once Derek's charges are dropped," I answered, mind wandering off to how that entire dismal situation was going to play out.

"And how do you feel about that?" she caught onto my apprehensive disposition.

"Good. I mean, he's an ass, but he was innocent," I indifferently answered with a slight shrug.

"I meant moving again."

"Oh," I tried not to shift under her scrutinizing gaze.

God, did that woman _ever_ blink?

Expression completely deadpan, I convincingly fibbed: "Haven't thought much about it."

Obviously not persuaded, Ms. Morrell inquired with interest: "Why did you call your cousin an ass?"

Laughing a bit despite myself, I couldn't help but deridingly snort: "If you met him, you'd understand."

"I guess it's safe to say you don't want go back to living with him," she rightly ventured, but when I merely kept quiet, she probed some more: "Why? Is he mean? Does he remind you of your father?"

Blazing eyes now shooting up to meet hers, I understood she did that on purpose. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know my relationship with my dad was a sore spot, and Ms. Morrell was hoping to use it against me.

Not willing to fall prey to her manipulation, I glowered across the desk at her and rigidly gave my rebuttal: "Maybe I just don't like being told what to do by someone who's only 6 years older than me."

Pursing her lips slightly, I could tell Ms. Morrell sensed that she had gone too far. No longer taking part in her little mind game, I crossed my legs and stared blankly back at her, and from behind those usually collected eyes, I caught a glimpse of frustration.

And now smirking smugly, I just gazed at her in stiff silence, the only noise filling the room that of the ticking clock, counting down the last 20 minutes of our insurmountable impasse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delayed update. Finals are brutal right now, but HOLY COW! the reviews and private messages for last chapter were amazing! _over 40 reviews_ in less than 8 chapters?! GAH!**

**Special thanks to: ****_cruzzy93, EmeraldGrey22, High Serpent King, Heather, klandgraf2007, I heard it in a song, and "Guest"_ - LOVE YAH ALL**

**Also, got a lot of good feedback for the 8tracks, so check it out at: "TW Moon Series - WOLF MOON" or my page at "xxmarahhxx"**

**Okay, let me know what y'all think about this update! Let's get the reviews up to 50 soon!**

**I don't own anything (besides my OC), so read away darlings and ENJOY!**

EIGHT: LURK

Absentmindedly tapping my foot, I glanced at my phone again.

7 missed calls and 13 text messages.

That's what I was met with once I got out from Ms. Morrell's painfully drawn out therapy session.

As if spending an hour past dismissal just staring at the nosy lady wasn't enough, Stilinski clearly felt it necessary to remind me over and over again about what the plan was, shooting various threats my way that I needed to respond 'or else'.

Now, of course, the second I got a chance to answer, Stiles was late… and missing in action…

Frowning, I scanned the brightly lit lacrosse field from across the way, and as the eerie fog billowed about, the haunting scene contrasted the exciting cheers of the crowd filling the stands.

Straining my eyes, I saw the blurry image of various red and green shirted players zooming about, racing after the unseen ball.

The whistles were shrill, piercing my ears as I tried to listen past the roaring fans and Coach Finstock's grating voice.

The second half had just started, and if Allison was going to keep her satanic grandfather distracted long enough for Stiles and I to break into his office, well this was definitely the time, and our window of opportunity was closing.

Debating whether or not to risk picking the lock myself or to just run out and find the tardy teen, I finally caught the sound of his voice.

"H-hey," Stilinski's soft and concerned words sounded much closer than the lacrosse field. "What's wrong?"

Furrowing my brows, I stood up from the shadowy corner I was currently propped against and walked towards the window as the sounds of a weeping young woman met my ears.

Interest peaked, I peered out the window, eyes narrowed as I scanned the packed and poorly lit parking lot.

"Lydia, come on," Stilinski begged as I finally spotted the lanky boy in the red warm-up suit.

He was tapping on the closed window of Lydia Martin's shiny burgundy Toyota Yaris as the strawberry blonde vehemently shook her head and snapped: "Go away!"

Breaking down into sobs again, she wiped the make-up from under her eyes and muttered: "I don't need anyone to see me cry."

I could tell something serious must be going on with her… much more serious than a simple broken teenage heart, and I was worried.

"You shouldn't care if people see you cry, all right?" Stiles' voice was compassionate as he continued to stand so close to the window that his breath clouded it up. "Especially you."

Cries dying down a bit, the redhead blinked: "Why?"

Window suddenly rolling down, Stilinski stared at the doe-eyed queen bee whilst his words got caught in his throat: "B-because… because I think you look really beautiful when you cry."

Hearing his racing heart, the beat itself was even as he confessed his true feelings, and as Lydia looked up at him with a surprised yet tender expression, I felt what little empathy I was capable of morph into utter impatience.

I got she was upset and Stiles saw this as his shot at being her shoulder to cry on. He undoubtedly hoped that that said shoulder would then turn into a full body interaction, but we didn't have time for this adolescent angst crap!

Temper flaring up, I fumbled around trying to find my phone, grumbling to myself in frustration: "How many goddamn pockets do I have?"

"Y-you're gonna think I'm crazy," the usually unemotional teenage girl began to open up as I finally pulled out the useless device and began furiously typing in my security code.

"If you trust me on anything, you can on this," he eagerly leaned closer, voice excited and sincere as he chuckled despite himself: "There's _nothing_ that you can say to me that will make you sound crazy. Literally nothing."

Knowing just how true those words actually were, I hit 'call' and shot daggers out the window at the distracted dork.

Watching the strawberry blonde contemplate whether or not to trust him, I finally saw Stilinski perk up and awkwardly mumble: "C-can you just give me 5 minutes?"

Hazel eyes widening in disbelief and irritation, Lydia huffed as Stiles blurted out his painful apology whilst answering the phone: "I know, I know. I'm sorry," then spinning around rather clumsily, he hissed into the phone: "_What?"_

Scoffing a bit, I shot back snarkily: "Oh, _I'm _sorry… am I interrupting something? Or have you forgotten we were planning on committing a felony?"

Nodding his head at the harsh, but much needed reminder that we were, indeed, about to break into Gerard's office, Stiles ran a hand over his hair and grumbled: "Okay. Two seconds."

Shaking my head as he finally spotted me standing in front of the moonlit window, the boy's caramel eyes widened as he quickly spun back to face the perplexed and vexed Lydia: "Just stay here, continue crying… or not crying… if you want. Whatever works for you," he continued to babble at the redhead's mystified and offended face. " But, um, stay here. I'll be right back, and then we can talk," he ducked away, voice still high and strained. "About anything! Okay? Yeah? Just 5 minutes!"

And as the strawberry blonde just shook her head, Stiles gave her one last reluctant look for bouncing back over towards the empty school building.

Tripping as he darted up the steps, the pale nerd burst through the doors, out of breath and triumphantly holding up our homicidal principal's keys.

Merely staring at the panting boy with an impassive face, I plucked them from his hands and silently turned on my heel.

Jogging to catch up to me, Stiles breathed: "S-sorry, I got distracted."

"Yeah," I muttered flatly. "I noticed."

"What?"

"Nothing," I grumbled, voice stiff. "Let's just get this over with."

Nodding I felt his eyes watching me closely, and I could tell Stilinski was completely lost as to why I was so annoyed, but honestly I had a right to be! I mean, he was nagging me nonstop when I was in my meeting with Ms. Morrell… a meeting _his_ father forced me into… but the second he was busy, well the whole world had to stop!

Sourly stalking down the dark and desolate hallway, I could no longer ignore his light brown eyes burning holes into the side of my face, so I stopped in my tracks and demanded: "What are you staring at?"

Brows raised, Stiles' mouth was slightly open as he stared at my impatiently awaiting face: "Ugh, nothing."

Pursing my lips, I flipped my hair and stomped back off, glaring at my black combat boots with every step.

I hated when he did that… staring at me with those big, dopey eyes of his like some innocent little puppy…

It's as if he thought that would make me find him less annoying!

Shaking my head despite myself, my thoughts then turned to how preposterous Allison's insistence that I had feelings for my eccentric companion was, and as we reached Gerard's office, I couldn't help but chortle to myself.

Her and Scott were crazy.

I clearly found him more irritating than not, and just because I didn't necessarily want him to die or get hurt… or experience any sort of pain… it sure as Hell didn't mean I actually had _feelings_ for him.

I didn't even have emotions, for God's sakes!

Well, not really. Just the bad ones anyway.

Trying the first of several keys, I felt Stilinski's lasers searing into my head once again.

"Oh my God," I growled, turning to face him with an exasperated expression. "_What?"_

Clearing his throat a bit, Stiles tentatively reached out and tugged at the tag just peaking out from behind my raven hair: "Your shirt's inside-out."

Brows furrowed, I followed where his hand was and once my eyes landed on that white piece of cloth, my face flushed and cheeks burned.

"Oh!" it was my turn to now be flustered as I tried to unsuccessfully tuck it back in and chuckle: "Well that's… f-funny… I mean how did that happen?"

Watching me closely, I sensed Stiles was a bit suspicious, but rather than looking into his eyes, I clumsily turned back around, practically smashing my face against the door.

Mentally cursing Greenberg, I focused on unlocking the door as I continued to ramble: "Must have been tired getting dressed this morning."

Before Stilinski could utter a word, however, the faint 'click' of the lock was heard and the door opened, thankfully saving me from the uncomfortable conversation at hand.

"Okay, you check his desk and I'll check the file cabinet," I ordered curtly, still feeling extremely embarrassed as I began opening the drawers.

Suddenly hearing a deafening crash behind me, I jumped and turned to see Stilinski sprawled out on the floor, clearly having tripped over one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Shaking my head at the spazztic teen moaning as he got up from the ground, I whispered harshly: "Look where you're going."

"Not all of us have werewolf night-vision goggles, Charlie!" he shot back rubbing his head as he rounded the desk, but as he did so, he stubbed his toe. "Jesus!"

Biting my cheek, I tried my utmost to keep from laughing, but soon I erupted into loud snorts.

"It's not that funny," he pouted, but as he glanced up from the drawers he was currently sifting through to my grinning face, a blotchy-cheeked Stilinski joined me.

Turning back to the task at hand, the room soon fell silent once again, besides the sound of Stiles muttering to himself and the shuffling of papers. Then, after about five minutes of fruitless searching, I shut the filing drawers and sighed: "I got nothing. You?"

Looking up from the desk with a frown, Stiles shook his head 'nope', but once his caramel eyes drifted past my discouraged face to something just behind me, I heard his heart rate escalate.

"Hi, Stiles," came a coy, female voice from just over my shoulder.

Spinning around, my eyes immediately widened as I came face-to-face with a wickedly smirking Erica Reyes.

"Charlotte," she mocked me with a malicious glint in her large brown eyes, and before I could even react or speak, I felt an immense force slam into the side of my head, knocking me out cold.

* * *

><p>The ringing in my ears was deafening and my brain throbbed something awful. Rolling over on the hard, scratchy gray carpet with a groan, I opened my eyes, only to see dark black spots impeding my hazy vision.<p>

Skull burning, I groggily sat up, unsure as to where I was or what I had previously been doing. Moaning, I rubbed my smarting forehead and immediately felt the crusty texture of dried blood.

"What did you see at the mechanics garage?" I faintly heard Derek's deep, threatening voice.

Blinking the spots away, I used the doorway to stabilize and yank myself up.

Why was my older cousin here?

And who was he talking to?

"Several alarming ETA violations," came Stilinski's sarcastic remark, immediately making my stomach lurch.

_Stiles! _

Where was Stiles?

Scanning my environment, I quickly spotted Gerard's keys tossed on the floor as the lanky kid continued to quip: "I'm seriously considering reporting."

And Erica! Oh, next time I see her!

Swiftly grabbing the ring of keys, I dashed out of the room, closing the door behind me. I knew Stiles was relatively safe, considering Derek needed information from him, and so, not necessarily feeling worried, I followed the sound of their tense conversation with an intent to even the score with that sneaky little blonde.

"Holy God!" Stilinski exclaimed after an echoing 'pop' reverberated down the hallway.

"Try again," I could almost hear the scowl on my older cousin's dark face as I rounded the corner and headed towards the school's indoor swimming pool.

Practically kicking open the double doors, I strutted into the massive, shadowy room, eyes darting between the flat and shredded basketball lying on the ground and Derek as he held an anxious Stiles high above his head by the shirt collar.

"Really?" my voice echoed as the three individuals' gazes now landed on my calm, albeit derisive face. "Sending in your trampy guard dog to get the jump on me?"

Dark brown eyes flashing dangerously, Erica took an aggressive step forward and growled through clenched teeth: "Who are you calling a 'tramp' you b…"

Body forcefully yanked back by my unphased older cousin, who was still holding a nervous and flailing Stiles up, Derek shut his hotheaded beta up with a mere look whilst I stopped directly in front of them.

Arms crossed and brows raised, I smugly sneered at the glowering blonde before lazily turning to my last remaining relative: "What? You didn't want to drop in and say 'hi' yourself? Gotta say, Derek, I'm a little offended."

"Sorry," Derek uttered with the least amount of enthusiasm I had ever heard, even from him.

Wide caramel eyes awkwardly shifting between the three werewolves below his dangling body, Stiles stuttered weakly: "C-clearly you guys need to, ugh, have some family time, so if you put me down, I'll just go and…"

Grip tightening around his collar, Derek's harsh green eyes shot right up at the gangly dork, causing his words to get stuck in his throat.

"O-okay, yeah," he nodded jerkily and choked out: "I'll just, um, I'll just hang here."

Brown eyes then darting over to my direction, I could tell Stilinski was expecting me to fight for his freedom, and so, rolling my eyes, I shook my head and sighed wearily: "Just put him down, you giant ape."

"No," Derek clenched his draw, voice firm and gaze locked onto mine. "Not until he tells us what he saw at the mechanics," he then turned back to Stiles with an intimidating tone: "_Everything_ he saw…"

Glancing between both males, I knew my cousin well enough to understand that he wasn't going to back down, and as Stilinski continued to look at me and silently plead for my help, I had to go along with Derek's orders.

The fact was that if Stiles shared what he had seen, my older cousin could probably help us figure out what this mysterious monster was faster. Besides, pissing an erratic Alpha off was certainly not something I was too keen on unless it became truly necessary.

Exhaling, I shrugged lethargically, backing off.

Visibly irritated that I was not stepping in, Stiles groaned, but once Derek gave him a very irascible look, the pale teen exclaimed: "All right! The thing was slick looking. Um, the skin was dark, and kind of patterned."

Slowly lowering the teenager as he continued to divulge what he had witnessed, I picked a piece of lint off of my still inside-out gray tank top whilst Stiles fixed his color and brushed himself off.

Eyes then catching Erica's unfriendly glare, I flashed a wide, fake smile as Stilinski continued temperamentally: "I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Because I have someone I really need to talk to."

Chest almost immediately tightening, my face fell into a frown as my eyes darted from Erica back to Stiles.

I mean, seriously! This kid's priorities were beyond messed up tonight!

Crossing my arms as Stiles turned to leave, Derek stepped directly into the human's path, making him shrink back next to me, as if I would want to stick my neck out for him any more than I all ready did.

"All right! All right! Fine," he croaked a bit, clearly intimidated by my colossal older cousin as he loomed over the both of us. "Eyes… eyes were, ugh, yellowish. And it had lots of teeth. Oh! And a tail, too."

Basically ignoring the chattering nerd, I was busy trying to keep my temper in check, but soon the hairs on the back of neck stood up.

Extremely on edge, I sensed that something was off, and not in the same nightmarish way that I had become so familiar with during the never-ending course of my withdrawal.

No. This was different. Tangible, almost, as if I could literally feel the ominous and foreboding sensation's claws squeezing my entire body.

I felt frozen, and as I instinctively sniffed the air, there was a strange, somewhat rancid scent slowly wafting over to us.

"Are we good?" Stiles demanded, trying to sound as big as possible. "What?" his voice sounded far away as I strained my ears, feeling quite certain that someone or something was coming. "Have you seen it? You have this look on your faces like you know exactly what I'm talking about…"

Eyes abruptly noticing the petrified expression on Erica's face and Derek's unsettled one, both Stiles and I slowly turned to one another right as my ears picked up on the steady heartbeat of a fifth body right above our heads.

Pulse racing, Stilinski and I then apprehensively glanced up, only to come face to face with the horrific monster that he had just been describing.

Eyes a reptilian, golden yellow and three rows of razor sharp, shark-like teeth, the creature was at least six feet long. And as the dark greenish-blue, almost black scaly beast let out a loud, predatory hiss, it leapt down from the shadowy balcony within a split second of us all looking up.

Long tail whipping a shrieking Erica clear across the room, the blonde bombshell slammed into the far wall, cracking it and falling to the ground unconscious.

Stepping right in front of Stiles and I, Derek protectively barked: "Run!"

Hand grabbing my wrist, Stilinski fearfully obeyed, and as he wheeled us around to make our escape, I heard Derek let out a low grunt.

Intuitively spinning around, I saw Derek's shaking hand touching the back of his neck, where the very same cut Deaton had pointed out on the dead hunter was now bleeding ever so slightly.

Body freezing up, Stiles and I knew exactly what was happening, and as the lightening fast monster started advancing towards my defenseless older cousin, I gave my rightfully fretful companion a stern look: "Call Scott."

"Charlie!" Stiles yelped after me, knowing exactly what I was about to do.

"Get out of here!" I called back, adrenaline coursing through my panicked body.

Jumping right in front of my currently paralyzed cousin, I heard Derek growl for me follow my own advice and leave, but I simply ignored him whilst the strange and dangerous beast and I circled one another.

It's claws were massive, bigger than any werewolf I had ever encountered, and from how low to the ground it moved, I was fully aware it was probably quicker, too.

My vision going black and white, I felt my own feeble claws descend as I bared my fangs, letting out a loud, booming roar in an attempt to seem like the slightest bit of an even match.

Trying to buy Derek some time as I distracted the creature, I suddenly heard a splash, distracting me for a split-second.

Eyes flitting over to where my cousin had helplessly collapsed into the pool, I was then met with a difficult choice: go in after him and render us both defenseless or fight off the powerful monster and hope he didn't drown.

Then, completely unaware that he had stupidly elected to stay, I caught a glimpse of Stiles dropping his phone and diving in after Derek.

I had expected the frail, defenseless human to take off the second I told him to, so I had to admit that I was beyond surprised Stiles had waited, let alone risked his life to save my troublesome cousin.

Opening my mouth to scold the idiotic and impulsive martyr, I then heard the heart-stopping hiss of the scaly animal just behind me.

Ducking in the nick of time, I felt its venomous claws swipe right over my head, blowing my hair back.

Heart racing, I dodged its second attack as I heard Derek angrily growl: "Get me out of here before I drown!"

"You're worried about drowning?" Stiles' panting voice argued back from where he was treading water. "Did you notice the thing out there… with multiple rows of teeth… fighting your cousin?"

"Did you notice I'm paralyzed… in 8 feet of water from the neck down?" Derek hissed back.

At this point, I had to do a very drastic back-flip to avoid the razor-like, poisonous claws again, and as I landed right on the diving board, I quickly shot back over my shoulder: "Could you two _try_ to be helpful or shut the Hell up?"

"Okay, yeah," Stiles nodded, though he swallowed some of the chlorinated water and began to cough a bit.

Turning back around, I immediately felt a heavy weight ram into my mid-section, sending me flying into a stack of metal folding chairs.

Crashing down, the wind was knocked right out of my lungs, and as I gasped for air, I could heard both boys yelling for me to get up.

Sputtering, I slowly rose, only to have to dive out of the way as the monster pounced right on the spot I once was.

Landing on the cold and wet tile floor, I didn't even have time to get up for the beast was right on top of me.

"G-get the phone," Stiles and my cousin were dipping under the surface of the water.

Eyes darting around, I finally spotted Stilinski's cell as I crab-crawled backwards, and as I slipped and scurried my way over, I somehow managed to get a good, hard kick to the animal's slotted snout.

Letting out a piercing yowl, the thing charged at me as I dove for the cellular device and as my clawed fingers wrapped around the cool plastic, I felt a sharp, white-hot sting slice into the back of my neck.

"Son of a bitch," I growled, immediately feeling the burning toxin shoot down throughout my entire body.

Slowly sinking to the ground, every cell in my being began to shut down, and as I violently began to twitch, I heard Stiles' gurgled voice cry out: "Charlie!"

Wide eyes watching the monster predatorily moving closer and closer to me, I knew that there was no chance of me fighting back, but I did have the energy for one last move.

Quickly flicking my wrist, I sent Stilinski's cellphone sliding across the smooth tile surface, and as my heavy head fell limply to the ground, I could barely see the device teetering on the lip of the pool.

Breathing shallow to begin with, I held my breath as I watched the thing wobble, praying to God it wouldn't fall in, however before I could verify that it had stayed on the dry surface, the reptilian creature's horrific face got right into mine.

Hissing dangerously, it flashed its multiple rows of serrated teeth whilst it cocked its head to the side, as if contemplating whether or not to kill me.

Unable to move and barely able to talk, all I could do was stare unblinkingly into those uncanny yellow eyes and listen to the sound of my own racing heart pounding against my stiff chest.

I could see the beast salivating, and as it inched closer and closer to my helpless and still body, which was now sprawled out about five feet from the water, I couldn't help but let out a low whimper of fear.

Head hovering just above my exposed neck, I felt it's slimy spit drip down onto my bare skin, sending chills down my frozen spine. There was no way I could move, but as the monster opened its large jaws, preparing to end my life, I then noticed that I couldn't even shut my eyes fully.

Nope. This goddamn creature of the Black Lagoon got me so bad that I was now going to have to watch myself get torn apart.

Mentally grimacing, I tried to prepare myself for the world of pain ahead of me, however I then heard Stiles' rather aggressive voice bellow: "H-hey! Over here!"

Pausing right above my neck, I would have let out a sigh of relief, however unfortunately for me, the beast did not remain all that distracted by Stilinski's words.

Opening its jaws once again and emitting a murderous hiss, the monster was suddenly rocked in the face by some flying object.

Watching the soaked lacrosse cleat bounce off of its harsh, scaly face and onto the floor right next to me, my wide eyes drifted over to where Stiles was still struggling to keep himself and my paralyzed cousin afloat; and as the extremely pissed off creature turned its full, blood-thirsty attention onto the nervous pale teen in the middle of the pool, I tried to yell out and divert its impending attack back onto me.

Stiles was risking his life to save Derek. Why the Hell was he now putting himself in even more danger for me?

Serpentine animal circling the pool like a vulture, it ventured somewhat close to the water, but as it tentatively dipped its claw into the cool liquid, it let out a loud screech and immediately retracted its limb, as if making contact with the pool water burned or harmed it in some way.

Lethal yellow eyes now gazing steadily at both confused and anxiously watching boys, I heard the creature's racing heart and sensed that it was frustrated.

"What's it waiting for?" Stilinski muttered, beyond worried caramel eyes shifting from the lizard-like beast and to my motionless and silently watching form.

"I-I don't think it likes the water," Derek spit some of the clear liquid out of his own mouth as he ventured a guess, but before anything else could be said between the two boys, both of their heads suddenly disappeared underneath the surface.

Heart almost popping out of my chest, every fiber of my being wanted to spring right up and dive in to help them. Derek was a big guy to begin with, let alone when he was fully dressed and mostly dead weight, so I could only imagine just how much the poor gawky human was struggling to keep them both from drowning.

Heads popping back up from the water, I listened to their gasping breaths as I desperately tried to get my body to heal from the crippling assault.

"Okay, I don't think I can do this for long," Stilinski confessed breathlessly, almost choking on more water as he fought so hard to keep them both afloat.

Green eyes widening in alarm, Derek barked his vehement protest: "No, no, no. Don't even think about it."

Light brown eyes locked on the cellphone at the edge of the pool, Stiles' voice was low and urgent: "Trust me this once."

"No," Derek gruffly argued, his gaze following the treacherous monster still circling them.

"I'm the one keeping you alive, have you noticed that?" Stiles shot back impatiently, while I slowly began to regain feeling in my fingertips and toes.

"And when the paralysis wears off, who will be able to fight that thing, you or me?" Derek retorted.

Had I been able to speak even remotely loud enough, I would have yelled at both bickering children, however as I continued to steal glances at the irate creature, I couldn't help but notice what it was doing.

Deaton was right. This thing was a perfect predator. Lurking in the shadows, it waited to surprise us, immediately knocking the three biggest threats out of commission within minutes. And now, with two of its intended prey seemingly out of its reach, the beast was just waiting for the weaker human to get tired and give out.

Smart, ruthless, and cunning, I understood it was only a manner of time before both my older cousin and close friend would either have to choose death by drowning or being viciously torn apart.

I needed to do something!

Mind racing, I tried to think of ways to speed up my healing process, but I was drawing a blank.

"You don't trust me, and I don't trust you," Stiles continued, his voice growing more strained as he tried to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible.

"You need me to survive, which is why you are not letting me go," Derek's voice was on edge, obviously nervous that the teen was actually going to cut him loose, and just as Stilinski shot him an apologetic look, my older cousin exclaimed: "Stiles!"

Words morphing into a garbled mess of bubbles, my older cousin then sank like a dead weight to the bottom of the pool, and as I felt myself growing more and more sick, I watched on in both pure horror and anxiety as Stiles swam as fast as his exhausted body could carry him.

At this point, the strange and deadly creature was also rushing forward, obviously well aware what the boy's goal was, and as I watched the pale teenager get to the phone just before the monster could cut him with those poisonous claws, Stiles kicked right off the wall and was back at the center of the pool, cell held high above his head.

His petrified face was sheet white, caramel eyes wide, and breathing extremely erratic, and as he struggled to dial McCall's number into the device, all I could do was uselessly watch on.

It was horrible feeling this helpless.

Eyes filling up with frustrated tears as I watched my friend, yet again, slip underneath the surface, I tried my absolute hardest to move even an inch closer.

Wiggling my fingers and toes, I prayed to whatever God I used to believe in to cut me a break just this once.

I knew I wasn't a good person. I understood that I was flawed, weak, selfish, and a killer. There was no denying it, and the same argument could be made for my older cousin. But Stiles… he was good and kind and pure. He didn't deserve to die, let alone for me or my family.

Popping back up and gagging on water, Stiles held the phone to his ear and only managed to blurt out the word 'Scott' before his best friend's oblivious and hushed voice stated: "Can't talk right now. I'll call you back."

Then, with the heartbreaking sound of a dropped call, Stilinski and I glanced at one another hopelessly as we came to the realization that McCall had just hung up on us.

We were alone.

Inhaling deeply, Stiles dove back down to retrieve my cousin as a few, burning hot and hopeless tears leaked from my unblinking eyes.

_Come on, Charlie. Move! Stiles needs you!_

Clawed fingers digging into the tile floor, I felt the grout piling up under my nails, and as I observed Stilinski and Derek coughing and sputtering back above the water, I noticed that the reptilian creature had stopped and was now watching me trying to move.

Freezing in my spot, my heart practically stopped.

I had to be patient and bide my time, for if Scott didn't realize something was wrong soon and come to the rescue, I was Stiles and Derek's only hope.

"Tell me you got him," Derek spluttered slightly, no doubt from having to hold his breath for quite some time.

Expression beyond bleak, Stiles simply looked back at my older cousin, not saying a word.

Back to its predatory circling, I kept a close watch on the thing as I suddenly felt my own phone vibrating in my leather, high-waisted short pockets.

Unable to even lift my butt-cheek to get to it, I hoped to the Heavens that it was McCall or Allison, and that if I didn't pick up, they would realize something terrible had happened.

Regardless what my hopes were, however, I was also fully aware that whatever chance of someone coming to help us was, it was going to be even more likely that they would come too late.

Stiles and Derek had fallen silent at this point, both too fatigued to even talk, and as I listened to Stilinski's fading and shallow breaths, I felt my body suddenly swell with pure stress-induced adrenaline.

Nails digging into the floor once again, I pressed down as hard as I could, feeling shooting pains run up from my nails into my arms. I knew that I was probably bleeding from the amount of force I was using in an attempt to drag my body forward, but I didn't care.

Gritting my teeth, I just kept clawing away, and as the buzzing subsided I felt something.

Through the pain and agony, I noticed my arms were loosening up.

Warm blood pooling around my hands, I continued to scratch at the icy cold tiles, budging just an inch whilst Stiles puffed: "I don't know… how much longer… I can keep this… up…"

Considerably alarmed, I watched them fall beneath the surface again, only to come back up that much more exhausted. The monster was just pacing now, patiently waiting for them to make a decision and paying no mind to me as I moved another inch or two.

Fingers aching, my eyes were fixated on both boys.

I could feel all the way up to my shoulders now, and as my neck relaxed a bit, I moved a couple of more inches.

"I can't," Stiles gasped, his heart racing.

"Stiles," Derek tried to speak, but they soon dipped under again.

Four more feet.

Just four more.

Moving another couple of inches, I bit my tongue to keep from letting out pained whimpers as I heard my one claw snap from the pressure and weight I was forcing on it.

Breaking the surface once again, Stilinski muttered to my older cousin: "I'm gonna… need to… hold on… to something."

Green eyes shooting over to my own determined ones, Derek then realized that I was eyeing the ladder, which was now just 3 and half feet away from me. Gazing at one another for a moment or two, my older cousin then nodded and turned to my weakened friend: "Okay. Over there."

"Over where?"

Trying and failing to jerk his head to where we were both staring, my cousin dropped his voice and growled: "The ladder."

Caramel eyes scanning the pool, they then landed on the target as I pulled myself another torturous three inches.

_Just a little more_,_ Charlie. Just a little more!_

Watching him fight tooth and nail to stay above the water, Stiles slowly dragged himself and my older cousin to the side of the pool, eyes intently watched the reptilian menace still pacing about hungrily.

Two more feet.

I could feel my chest loosening up, and as I turned my neck, I felt myself slowly roll over onto my belly.

Face squashed against the cold, wet tiles, I heaved, letting out a low grunt.

1.6 feet.

The splashing was louder now, and I could hear Stiles gasping for air and spitting out water as they got closer and closer, but when I lifted my heavy head to look up, I suddenly realized that the strange and terrifying beast was gone.

Not believing for a second it had just taken off, my heart thumped wildly against my chest as I flailed about, arms slamming on the ground with a loud 'slap' whilst I made it another half-foot.

Where was it?

Trying to listen for it, I was met with nothing but unsettling silence. Well, that was until I realized just how quiet it really was.

There was no coughs or heavy breathing to be heard, and even the sound of lapping water had died down.

The entire room was dead quiet, and as I turned to look back over at the pool, I saw that both Stiles and Derek had disappeared under the surface, too physically spent to grab onto the railing.

Hauling my dead weight further, I emitted a deep, furious growl as I pushed onward, hearing the sickening sounds of two more claws cracking and falling right off.

Finally feeling the edge of the pool, I yanked my limp body forward, spotting both males just below the surface, barely moving.

Then, I heard it. That damned monster hissing and racing towards me for its final attack, but screw it!

I didn't care!

Let it tear me to bits so long as I get them to the surface!

Thrusting my bare and bloody arms into the water, the chlorine burned my raw fingers and as I bellowed in shrill pain, I felt both of their shirts, gripped them tight, and pulled with all of my might.

Heads bursting upwards and coughing violently, my relieved eyes landed on Stiles as he blinked away the water clouding his vision, and as I watched him firmly grip the railing, I felt myself get dragged backwards.

"Charlie!" both my cousin and close friend screamed whilst my frail form landed with a heavy 'thud' onto the ground.

Looking up at the dark, shadowy ceiling, I tried to roll over but soon found that macabre monster all ready air-born, his yellow eyes fixated on my defenseless body.

Clamping my eyes shut, I waited for the thing to land and plunge both its claws and teeth into my unprotected flesh, yet the impact never came.

Instead, I heard an echoing howl and colossal crash, causing me to open my eyes and spot a fully shifted Scott McCall taking on the mysterious and lethal animal.

Dodging a few of its assaults, the dexterous beta leapt onto the diving board, and as he landed, the sound of crackling glass could be heard.

Looking down, he picked up a sharp shard of the window that had broken during my own brawl with the beast, and as Scott raised it threateningly, the charging creature stopped in its tracks.

Seemingly confused, the bloodthirsty look in its eerie yellow eyes turned blank as it stared at its own reflection, and as Scott's own werewolf eyes darted over to mine, we exchange equally puzzled looks.

Before McCall could take advantage of his distracted foe, however, the monster let out a loud, threatening hiss, took off, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving all four of us staring after it in complete bewilderment.

* * *

><p>"Is that even a language?" Stiles chattered from underneath the blanket Scott swiped for him. "How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?"<p>

Caramel eyes looking between his equally confused friend holding up a picture of Gerard's bestiary (which irritatingly enough was on the USB drive on his key-chain the entire time) and my own, still half-paralyzed body propped up in the front seat of the Jeep, McCall and I merely shrugged, both too tired and too lost to even figure out how to pronounce the damned thing's name.

"It's called a Kanima," Derek's voice suddenly sounded as he and a battered Erica emerged from the darkness.

"You knew the whole time?" I asked, my eyes flashing dangerously as I contemplated trying to stand again.

Green eyes lazily glancing over me and my friends' irritated faces, my older cousin state simply: "Only when it was confused by its own reflection. It doesn't know who it was, or what…"

"What else do you know?" Scott demanded darkly, eyes piercing into the Alpha's.

"Stories. And rumors," he vaguely shared, but after brief moment where we all gave him the most impatient of looks, he continued: "It's a shapeshifter, but it's not right," I could hear just how worried Derek actually seemed. "It's like a…"

"An abomination," Stiles finished his sentence, voice just as ominous as Derek and Erica's expressions.

Staring at my older cousin, I knew he was trying to seem brave and prove that he was the strong Alpha he so desperately pretended to be, but behind those impassive green eyes and stoic, stubbly face, I knew he was just as freaked out as we were.

This thing was like nothing we had ever seen or faced before, and as if reading my mind, McCall spoke up passionately: "Derek, we need to work together on this… maybe even tell the Argents."

Face contorting into a look of almost disgust, my older relative spat: "You trust them?"

Chocolate eyes darting over to my own tentative and skeptical face, Scott then erupted in a way I had never witnessed before.

"Nobody trusts anyone! That's the problem!" he shouted, face fiery and voice fierce. "And while we're here arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier and faster than any of us, and it's killing people! And we don't know anything about it!"

Booming words echoing in the empty lot, I couldn't help but admire the kid. Always so concerned with others, Scott McCall was a noble person. Sure he cared a little too much about lacrosse and his romantic life, but what average teenager didn't? He still knew what was important. He still cared about protecting the innocent and maintaining his humanity. He was a natural leader, and as I stared at everyone's silent, contemplative faces, I felt a renewed sense of loyalty to the guy.

He was a werewolf. He was dangerous and capable of terrible things, just like my family and I, but he wasn't like us at all. He was better, and if I was going to be loyal to anyone, it would be someone like Scott McCall… someone who deserved it.

"Well I know once thing," Derek's voice quaked with rage, his eyes turning that heart-stopping red hue. "I'm gonna find it, and I'm gonna kill!"

And before any of us could call after him and try to convince my thickheaded older cousin that going it alone was the worst idea ever, he and his blonde protégé took off into the night.

* * *

><p>Mind engrossed with extremely troubled thoughts, I tried to block out my pounding headache as my brain wrestled with the idea of how, yet again, things became even more complicated.<p>

Gerard, the Argents, even Derek and his new cronies were all miniscule annoyances compared to our new foe. And sure, the Kanima scared me shitless, but what really had me one edge was the constant nagging sensation that things were just going to get worse.

Since I had stopped with the drugs, my withdrawal was slowly going away, but some of those pesky symptoms weren't. I still could barely sleep, let alone eat, and every so often I would pick up on these weird sensations, as if the universe was sending out some kind of warning.

It felt as if this new monster was just the beginning of some huge, life-altering disaster and I was powerless to stop it.

"You need help?" Stiles' voice snapped me out of my private thoughts.

Blinking a bit, I realized that we were finally back at the Stilinski's and the still damp, pale teen was staring at me from the driver's seat.

Shaking my head 'no', I figured I would be okay to walk by now, but as I opened the door and swung my heavy legs out of the blue vehicle, I only managed to collapse to the ground as my knees buckled.

"Son of a bitch!" I swore loudly, embarrassed that a supposedly strong werewolf needed some puny human's help to walk.

Practically falling out of the Jeep himself, a laughing Stiles sprinted around the car and hoisted me up, threw my slender arm over his surprisingly toned shoulders, and supported my weakened body.

"This is humiliating," I muttered bleakly whilst we both slowly made our way up to the front steps of his porch.

Unlocking the door, he assured me that it was fine, stating that: "Compared to Derek, this is nothing."

Smirking grimly, I took in his chuckling face, although I could see a hint of anxiety underneath that light-hearted façade. Stiles would do anything for those he loved and he would never complain, but that didn't mean whatever he had to see or go through didn't stick with him.

I just hoped all of this darkness wouldn't dampen that light I admired so much, for deep down, I knew I would partially be to blame if it did.

"Stiles?" my mouth was dry as I concentrated on each step we climbed up the steps.

"Yeah?" he responded, panting a bit as he helped my heavy form make it to the landing.

"I, ugh, I just wanna say thanks," I murmured, voice barely audible.

Brows furrowed, I could tell the pale teen was completely lost: "For what?"

Propping my wobbly self up against the doorway of the guest bedroom, I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible: "Well, you _did _save my cousin, so…"

"I mean, I didn't really have a choice," he shrugged.

"Yes, you did," my expression was serious and voice grave as I stated the truth matter-of-factly: "You could have ran away, but you didn't… which, by the way was very stupid of you…"

Slightly smirking whilst I scolded him, Stilinski's face then became more serious as he mulled over my words.

"And I know Derek's a major pain in the ass and that you don't trust him... truth be told I don't really anymore either, but still," I continued my confession with a deep sigh. "He's the only family I have and I appreciate what you did."

Clearly somewhat taken aback by my words, albeit gruff word of thanks, Stiles seemed rather stunned.

Opening his mouth to respond, the kid then decided to playfully puff out his chest proudly: "Don't mention it."

Chuckling a bit at the dork's posturing, I nodded my head and bid him goodnight, but as I turned to limp my way to bed, Stilinski tentatively called after me: "Charlie?"

Turning around with raised brows, I simply stared back at the tall, gangly boy staring at my bloodstained fingertips.

"You, um, you saved me too… you know?"

Taking in his awkward and uncomfortable expression, I knew he was thanking me from the bottom of his heart, and as I stared back at the kid I was so annoyed with earlier, I could no longer recall why I was even so pissed anymore.

Before I even realized it, I had strode over and gave the hyperactive dweeb and brief, but firm hug.

Body tensing up from surprise, I heard his heartbeat become uneven as my own fluttered from the sudden and uncharacteristic display of affection.

Immediately regretting my stupid, impulsive actions, my face turned beet red as I ignored his oddly grinning face whilst I turned on my heel and headed back to my bedroom.

Barely even giving the still-staring Stiles a cursory glance, I gruffly stated: "Glad you're okay."

And then I shut the door, absolutely mortified and confused as to what had just happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**OH MY GOSH! _50 reviews in less than 10 chapters!?_ I'm jumping around like a little kid on Christmas (which in case I don't update in time... _HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE_ :D)!**

**Anyways, thrilled as always to hear all of your thoughts/opinions about Charlie, Starlie, her relationship with Scott, Greenberg, Derek, and the girls, and the story in general! Special thanks to my loyal commenters/pm-ers: ****I heard it in a song, EmeraldGrey22, Guest 1 and 2, Heather, 99Tina99, and Marloweee1856 **

**OH! _A million thanks to the newest followers and favorite-ers_! DON'T BE SHY! share your thoughts, give suggestions, or just say hi! **

**Also, some of you brought up Scott and Isaac's relationship in season 2 and how it changes. Charlie will be part of it as well, considering she was close (well close for Charlie) with him before he was bit. She feels partially responsible, and like Scott, wants to save him! **

**My 8tracks for this season was updated. It's gotten a lot of likes so far, so I'm beyond happy about that! Check out my page under the name "_xxmarahhxx_" or the actual playlist "_TW Moon Series - WOLF MOON_"**

**Okay, longggg update so I hope y'all enjoy it! Personally enjoy seeing more of the older, more badass Charlie we had in the beginning of season 1 ;) Lemme know what you all think! **

**READ, REVIEW, AND ENJOY MY FRIENDS!**

NINE: DON'T RUN OUR HEARTS AROUND

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Panting breathlessly, I blindly felt around the shelf that I was currently propped up against, and as my hand slammed down on the annoying device, I turned my full attention back onto running my hands up and down Kyle Greenberg's sweating bare chest.

Lips hungrily nipping at his own, the Irish boy let out a low grunt as he mumbled with a tone of both pain and slight arousal: "Goddamn Charlotte."

Immediately jerking back, I pushed pause on our hot and heavy make-out session in the janitor's closet and looked up at his devilish blue eyes.

"It's Charlie," I spoke scoldingly, before taking control and pushing him back against the far wall with my own crooked smirk. "And don't be such a baby."

Merely snorting at my words, the Irish teenager's freckled face broke out into a wide, dimpled grin and grabbed me by the back of my damp neck, yanked me forward, and started kissing my swollen lips once again.

Hearts racing almost in unison as our blood pumped, I felt how excited he was becoming, and as his hands traced down my back and grabbed my rear firmly, I couldn't help but let out a low moan.

I had to admit, Lydia was right. This whole 'friends with benefits' thing was certainly a fun distraction.

With the withdrawal and lack of sleep alone, my stress levels were almost unbearable, but finding out that we now had to deal with a Kanima on top of Gerard and the Argents, well I was certainly in need of a release.

Ripping off my dark tan long-knit cardigan, Greenberg tossed it to the side as his fingers traced the bottom of my barely exposed lower back.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

"He never stops, does he?" Kyle grumbled in exasperation.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Too distracted to care, I waved off the pesky caller and mumbled absentmindedly: "Just ignore it."

Sensing Greenberg was more irked than I was by Stilinski's constantly interrupting calls and texts, I glanced up at his shadowy and extremely sour face, only to pull my black fitted tank over my head and toss it to the floor.

Stormy eyes drifting down to my dark purple lacey bra, the teenager quickly got over his irrational huff and pulled me against him once again.

Hot pecks traveling from my slightly parted lips, down my neck, and across my cleavage, I closed my eyes and tried to get back into the moment, but for some reason, the second I felt Greenberg's hand run down towards my pants, I froze up.

_Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!_

Awkwardly shying away, I used the incessant calls of my pale and nerdy roommate as a reason to slow things down.

"H-hold on," I muttered, tearing his hands from the button of my black skinny jeans and quickly turning to grab my phone.

Emitting a loud grunt of anger and frustration, Kyle demanded in utter disbelief: "_Really?_"

Completely avoiding his harsh and slightly jealous gaze, I merely crossed my arms, covering my body and answered the phone rather gruffly: "What? What is it?"

"H-hey, do you know where I left my wallet?" Stiles own voice sounded rushed and frantic, and as I heard the sound of something crashing in the background, I figured the dweeb was currently tearing apart his room.

"You called me 6 times for that?" I hissed, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep my temper in check.

"You didn't pick up," his response was short and innocent, only causing me to roll my eyes and bite my cheek to keep from smiling.

Sighing, I then recalled with a tired tone of voice: "Last time I saw it, you were drying it out on the radiator next to your bed."

"Oh, yeah!" Stiles' excited voice cried loudly into my sensitive ear. "Ooh! I see it. T-thanks! You're the best."

With another loud slam reverberating through the cellphone, I merely winced and responded flatly: "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Hey wait," he suddenly spoke up before I could hang up.

"Oh my God, Stilinski!" I snapped rather testily, still feeling Greenberg's icy stare burning holes into the back of my head. "What?"

"Why are you so out of breath?"

Cheeks immediately flushing as I grew hot, I became tremendously thankful that the lanky teenager was still halfway across town and unable to see my face.

"I-I don't know," I blurted out, tone of voice somewhat stiff and uncomfortable. "Maybe cause I ran all the way here?"

Silent on the other end for a moment or two, I mentally kicked myself for getting so flustered.

I had told my friend last night that I was planning to wake up early and run to school everyday as part of my new exorcise regiment, and although that part was completely true, I also did so to keep my recent casual hook ups with Greenberg under wraps.

"Right," Stilinski muttered, only to suddenly exclaim: "Oh shit! I'm so late!"

And just as the kid rattled off his quick good-bye, I only managed to get out my own urgent 'wait, Stiles,' before the call cut off.

"Stiles!" I growled, but the boy had obviously all ready hung up on me.

Quickly checking the time, my eyes widened once I noticed that it wasn't 7am anymore. Greenberg and I had been in the closet together for way longer than either one of us had intended, and with class starting in about fifteen minutes, my heart nearly burst out of my chest.

"Seriously, Charlie?" he griped, but I merely ignored his complaints, spun around, and began gathering my clothes.

Noticing my strange sense of urgency, Greenberg immediately asked with furrowed brows: "Wait, what time is it?"

Hearing the trepidation in his own voice, I glanced up as I finished pulling my tank back over my head: "Late. Really late."

"Crap," Kyle muttered, suddenly throwing on his on clothes whilst I buttoned my pants and tossed on the cardigan.

Fluffing my hair whilst wiping the sweat from my brow, I heard Kyle knock into the metal shelving unit as he put his jeans back on.

Listening to the sounds of the silent hallway, I figured the coast was clear, and as I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the hectic school day ahead, I opened the door and commanded over my shoulder: "Wait a minute until you come out after me."

"What? No good-bye kiss?" he asked, voice jovial though I could see an almost beseeching look behind those twinkling baby blues.

Gazing back at the needy human with an expression of boredom, I merely opened my mouth to restate that we had _both_ agreed that this relationship was meant to be nothing more than a good time, but as if reading my mind, Kyle spoke up with a light chuckle: "I'm kidding."

Simply eyeing his dopily grinning face closely, I then curtly nodded and stepped out into the brightly lit hallway, double-checking that I put my clothes back on correctly this time around.

Quickly moving down the empty hallway, I rounded the corner while still trying to catch my breath. Hoping to God that I would make my way through the crowded hallways quick enough to pack my bag and avoid another tardy notice on my record, my quickly moving feet stopped in their tracks.

The air was heavy and thick, as if I were breathing in soup, and as I listened to the distant sounds of chattering students and slamming lockers, everything became silent.

Turning around, the hallway was still empty, but as my eyes scanned the seemingly normal environment, my steady gaze landed on the boys' locker room.

Hair standing on end, I took an almost involuntary step forward, as if I were drawn to the stinking room, but as my slightly trembling hand gently touched the cold, metal handle, an eerily familiar icy, tingling sensation shot up my entire arm.

Limb instantly going numb, I felt the pins and needles becoming more and more painful, and as my entire body began to sting, I heard the sound of voices behind the heavy wooden door.

""It took forever, but I found a program that can recover your video. I'll run it in my free period this afternoon," Danny Mahealani's voice spoke to an unknown companion.

Completely on edge, I gripped my violently trembling hand and tried to recall where I had felt this sensation before, but before I could put my finger on it, I heard another much more arrogant male voice respond: "Yeah, just let me know when it's done."

Mind instantaneously connecting that haughty voice to what I had experienced during my last encounter with the blonde co-captain, I suddenly heard footsteps approaching.

Instinctively turning on my heel to leave the scene, I couldn't help but wonder what video Danny was talking about. Jackson had been a suspicious character since I had ever met him, but after the last few encounters I've had with the rude jock, I was now fully aware that if anyone could be a reptilian, murderous shape-shifting beast, it could very well be that asshole.

Now I just needed to share my hunch with the others without letting Whittemore know I was onto him…

"Charlie!" Jackson's harsh voice aggressively shouted after me, making my own pulse quicken.

Shit...

Trying to ignore him and make it around the next corner, I then felt his hand gruffly grab my shoulder and spin me around to face his irate, handsome face.

Swallowing my innate fear, I attempted to seem as aloof as possible: "What did I say about touching me, Whittemore?"

"You're lucky that's all I'm doing right now," he snarled, steely blue eyes dangerous.

"Excuse me?" I felt my own blood beginning to boil at the insolent teen.

"Kidnapping and threatening me? Forcing me to eat poison?" Jackson's voice was low and quaking with rage whilst he backed me into the corner.

Back now against the wall, I looked up at the wrathful boy with a completely perplexed expression: "What are you talking about?"

"Derek and his goons grabbed me and gave me some kind of drug. Thought I turned into some snake-thing this full moon," he growled threateningly.

Although I was never a proponent of my older cousin's none-too-stealthy plans, I was at least encouraged by the fact that Derek seemed to be suspicious of Whittemore too. He and Lydia had received the Bite, and even though the queen bee had been acting very strange lately, I still never felt that unnerving, hostile vibe… unlike her ex….

"Well did you?" I asked, my own voice and expression dangerous.

Blinking a bit, Jackson seemed somewhat dismayed by my expressionlessness, but soon his jaw clenched as he hissed through gritted teeth: "You think if I turned into some pathetic little slithering slug I'd remember it?"

Eyeing the boy closely, I could tell he was hiding something. His heart was racing, yet the actual pulse was erratic. Even if his run-in with Derek had freaked him out, it still didn't explain the almost apprehensive and uncertain look lingering just behind his unfriendly gaze.

Knocking his hand off my shoulder rather gruffly, I pushed past the attractive bully and adjusted my shirt, casually replying: "Well, regardless what you remember or don't, if Derek thinks it's you, you should be thankful all he did was hijack your morning workout."

"Yeah well tell that big bad Alpha of yours that he's wrong, and if he knows what's good for him he'll leave me alone," Jackson was clearly trying his best to seem intimidating.

Merely letting out a loud, mocking snort, I crossed my arms and answered dryly: "First, Derek's my cousin. _Not_ my Alpha. I'm not part of his stupid pack of misfit toys. And second," I suddenly got right up into Whittemore's stiff face, my own eyes flashing precariously. "You better find a way to prove you're innocent to him… if you know what's good for _you_."

Opening his mouth to give his own counter, our tense standoff was soon interrupted by a merry Danny striding over to us from the locker room.

"Hey, Charlie," he flashed his brilliant, dimpled grin, stepping between the two of us, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just walked in on a very hostile conversation to say the least.

"Hey, Danny," I beamed brightly, flipping my hair as we all turned to head to class, and as the tan Hawaiian kid babbled off about Coach's upcoming economics exam, Jackson and I kept stealing suspicious glances at one another from the corners of our eyes.

Whatever videotape Danny was working on for Whittemore, it definitely had something to do with whatever had happened to the teenager this past full moon.

Now I just needed to get my hands on it.

* * *

><p>Quickly shoving the books for my morning classes into my white tote bag, my mind was racing over what had just happened.<p>

Whittemore had Mahealani working on some undoubtedly detrimental videotape, I had felt that overwhelming and blood-chilling sensation around him again, and apparently Derek was so convinced that Jackson was the Kanima that he had abducted him from school.

If this wasn't a serious lead, I didn't know what was.

Slamming my locker shut, I then spotted McCall and Stilinski by the beta's locker.

Striding over, I tried to hide how truly shaken I still was, but luckily for me, the eccentric teen was all ready too wound up about something else to notice my ever-so-slightly twitching hand.

"Dude, I just talked to my dad… who just talked to Jackson… and I've got terrible, horrible, very, _very_ bad news," Stiles spoke a mile a minute, his caramel eyes wide.

"Anything involving Jackson's bad news," I reflected out loud, my own thoughts wondering whether or not wasting the teen would simply be the easiest solution.

Barely even glancing at me as I joined their conversation, Scott's own expression was oddly anxious: "I think I all ready know."

Exchanging slightly confused looks with the lanky teen, both he and I followed where McCall's chocolate brown eyes were fixated, and there, smugly staring at us across the hallway with a crooked and beyond wicked grin, was Isaac Lahey.

Slightly challenging dark blue eyes darting between my two companions, Lahey's gaze then landed on my own uncertain expression, and as I merely whispered a tentative 'Isaac', the new werewolf's smile grew even wider.

I knew his presence in school could lead to nothing but trouble, and as I let out a low grumble, I took a step forward.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Stiles asked, voice strained as he stared at Isaac whilst he continued to eye us closely.

Eyes locked on his own unwavering ones, I didn't even look at my two nervously gawking friends as I uttered from the corner of my mouth: "Someone's gotta try to keep the blood and carnage to a minimum today."

And as both teenagers mumbled their own bleak words and thoughts of consent, I took another step forward, only to find that my once human friend was now gone.

Looking around the hallway with furrowed brows, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and turned to the boys and asked: "Where'd he go?"

Craning their own necks, both Stiles and Scott seemed equally troubled as they shook their heads.

"Great. So we got Derek's merry band of murderers running around school and still have zero clue how to solve our Godzilla problem," I frowned deeply.

"Well not exactly," Stiles replied, expression less heavy than McCall's and my own.

Furrowing his brows, Scott asked: "What do you mean?"

Heading off to class, Stilinski started to explain: "Well we did find one thing online last night called a Kanima."

"Yeah, emphasis on the one," I mumbled sarcastically, earning myself an unappreciative look from the overly optimistic nerd.

"It's a were-jaguar from South America that goes after killers," he divulged the useless information we collected after spending a full, frustrating night of searching the web.

"That thing's not a jaguar," Scott noted as we pushed our way through the packed corridor.

"Yeah, and I'm not exactly a killer," Stiles also mused wryly, brows raised.

"Yeah, but you did see it kill somebody, which is probably why it tried to kill you," McCall thoughtfully announced, before continuing to unwittingly freak out his human best friend. "And it's still trying to kill you, and it probably won't stop until you're dead."

Continuing ignorantly towards class, McCall never noticed that Stiles stopped short, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"You know, sometimes I really question this 'friendship'," the pale and gangly kid called after his best friend, voice cracking a bit and expression fretful.

Unable to hide my amusement, I playfully clapped the frozen hyperactive nerd's back and stated coyly: "Aw, don't worry about your bromance. Scott still loves you."

Taking in Stiles' less than humored face, I let out a light laugh and then followed Scott into our classroom, hearing Stilinski bark after me sarcastically: "I'm so glad you two are concerned!"

* * *

><p>"Hey," Jackson's hushed voice distracted me whilst I picked at a bunch of split ends rather than listening to Coach Finstock's usual pre-class rant. "Testicle left and right."<p>

Stifling my own snivels, I glanced up and saw the haughty blonde slide into the seat next to mine, just behind the now insulted teenagers glaring at him.

"What the Hell is a Kanima?" he practically demanded of the two knuckleheads, but when both of their eyes widened and they glanced at my own surprised face, Whittemore just looked among us all impatiently.

"All right, listen up!" Bobby's voice boomed, preventing any of us from asking how the Hell Beacon Hills' most dense student managed to find out the newest monster wreaking havoc on the county. "A quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall," he rudely thrust his finger right into my friend's now slightly blushing face as he continued to publicly call him out. "May want to start their own study groups, cause tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult I'm not sure I'd even pass it."

Chuckling at his own demented sense of humor regarding his students' imminent failure, coach cleared his throat before becoming quite stern: "Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?"

Various hands slowly rising, Finstock selected some poor soul to humiliate him or her self in front of the entire class while I turned to face the continued discussion at hand amongst Stilinski, McCall, and Whittemore.

"Paralyzed from the neck down," the co-captain griped angrily, shooting me a highly irritated look for being related to his abductor. "Do you have any idea what that feels like."

Merely scoffing, I crossed my arms and leaned back against my chair while Stiles sardonically retorted: "I'm familiar with the sensation."

"Wait, why would Derek test you?" Scott asked, brows furrowed. "Why would he think that it's you?"

Now it was my turn to shoot Jackson a cold, hard look, for I had yet to find the opportunity to discuss my own theories about the high school's king with my two friends.

"How should I know?" he defensively stated, gaze avoiding my own and landing on the redhead nonchalantly doodling with a fluffy pink pen.

Heart practically stopping, my chest grew tight.

Wait a second.

If for whatever reason Whittemore passed my older cousin's test, then Derek's next suspect would be the strawberry blonde blowing bubbles with her gum a couple of rows over.

"Wait," my voice was strained and eyes wide as my heart began to race. "Do they think its Lydia?"

Cold blue eyes meeting my own, Jackson's ill mood seemed to grow more nervous: "I-I don't know," he confessed. "All I heard was her name and something about chemistry."

God, I _really_ hated that class!

"Jackson!" coach barked, suddenly standing directly between his co-captain and myself. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

Swallowing hard, Whittemore flashed an awkward yet wide and charming grin: "Um, just a… ugh… undying admiration for m-my coach."

Harsh stare softening up a bit, Finstock grinned with a low chuckle: "That's really kind of you," he then became stern once again and spoke above the now laughing class. "Now shut up! Shut it! Anybody else?"

"How do we know it's not her?" Scott asked the very unsettling question that had been swirling around my own mind.

With my own troubled face merely staring around at them all, Stiles was obviously the one to defend his precious Lydia Martin: "Because I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil, a-and when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see 50% evil."

Shooting him a look, he then quickly added: "All right, maybe 60. You know, but no more than 40 on a good day."

"Stiles, that's not a very good argument," McCall persisted weakly, knowing full well he was probably giving his best friend a reason to have a minor panic attack.

Stealing a glance at Jackson as he pretended to be engrossed with taking notes, I saw his own body tense up.

Did he really think it could be Lydia, too? I mean a soul sucking beauty queen, maybe, but a Kanima? No way. Right?

"I'm aware of that," Stiles sighed heavily, staring at the object of his overly devout affections whilst she sauntered up to the front of the room. "But I swear it's not her," and as we all turned to watch her start working on the newest problem on the blackboard, Stilinski's voice dropped to a low, almost pleading prayer. "It can't be all right. Lydia's fine."

Before anything else could be said, however, the entire classroom became distracted by a sudden high-pitched, whimpering, and as Stiles, Scott, and I looked up to see that very same strawberry blonde's tearful and blank face staring back at us all, our gazes went from the chalk being gripped by her quaking hand to the disturbing notes scribbled all over the board.

"What is that?" Scott hissed as everyone began whispering about Lydia's most recent mental breakdown. "Greek?"

"That's not Greek," I frowned, ignoring Coach asking for another volunteer while he ushered my shaken and confused friend back to her seat.

"Actually," Stiles breathed, face much paler than usual as his own trembling hand passed off his cellphone so that McCall and I could see what was so alarming. "I, ugh, I think it's English."

And as Scott and I stared down at the device, Stilinski flipped the image of the blackboard so that his best friend and I could see just how _not _okay Lydia Martin truly was.

For there, written as clear as day, though completely backwards, were the words 'SOMEONE HELP ME'.

* * *

><p>"Derek's not gonna kill her without proof," I tried to ease both of my companion's minds for the fifth time since we had got dismissed from economics, however I myself could barely believe those words.<p>

The cousin I used to know would have never signed off on someone's death without 100% certainty that they were guilty, however the power hungry Alpha Derek… well, I couldn't say I knew him at all.

"All right, so he tests her like he did with Jackson, right?" Stiles asked, his restless heart racing. "But when? And where?"

Entering Mr. Harris' depressing classroom, Scott was the one to answer, his tone of voice one filled with trepidation and chocolate brown eyes wide: "I think here… and now…"

And as both Stiles and my eyes landed on Erica and Isaac entering the classroom from the back door, Stilinski and McCall leapt forward, diving into the two open seats beside Lydia.

Hazel eyes merely looking from their weak and dopey grins to my own blank expression, my naïve redheaded friend rolled her eyes and flipped her hair, sassily ignoring Stiles' over-exaggerated wave 'hello'.

Shaking my own head, I headed to the lab table next to theirs, intently watching both werewolves sit just behind my three friends.

Fingers balled up into tight fists, I glared at them as Isaac merely grinned mischievously and Erica winked in my general direction.

Soon, however, Allison's confused and mostly nervous face covered their menacing ones.

"H-hey," she whispered, dark brown eyes darting around from Lydia, her secret boyfriend, then to the newest betas, and finally on my own stony face. "What's going on?"

"Einstein once said, 'two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe'," Adrian Harris' dry, toneless voice began the class, cutting off my attempt to fill the brunette in on our latest predicament. "I, myself, have encountered infinite stupidity. So," he grandly gestured around the entire classroom, slowly moseying over to stand between my table and Stilinski's. "To combat this plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments."

Fellow students letting out loud, and completely warranted moans of pure anguish, Harris merely shot us all annoyed looks before continuing with his pointless little speech: "Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one," he then placed a hand on Stiles' tense shoulder before he mocked my dweeby friend. "Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one. Erica, you take the first station."

And as the blonde bombshell slowly rose from her chair, deep brown eyes sultrily staring down every dude in the entire room, about a dozen hands flew up as each guy hornily offered to be partners with the school's newest hottie.

"I didn't ask for volunteers," our dictator of a chemistry teacher snapped. "Put your hormonal little hands down. We'll start with Mr. McCall," and as the entire male population of the class let out a collective groan of utter disappointment, he rattled off, "All right, next two are Allison and Lydia. Charlie and Jared. Stilinski and Lahey."

With everyone now shuffling to their designated places, my friends and I exchanged agitated looks, only to miserably plop down beside the painfully awkward teen with thick-rimmed glasses and a sweating problem.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing, wait. Just give me a chance to talk to Derek," Scott pled with Ms. Reyes, voice and face equally determined.

"Why don't you talk to me instead?" she leaned forward quite sexually, but as she got close and sniffed, a sly smirk spread across her olive face. "That's funny," she giggled wickedly whilst her dark brown eyes flitted over to the clearly watching Allison Argent. "In school you guys act like you're broken up, but she's _all over_ you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," McCall lied pathetically.

"If I were Allison, I'd be wanting you. All the time," her long, slender fingers suddenly gripped McCall's knee.

"Never? You never get jealous?" Lydia's voice caught my interest, and as my eyes darted over to where Allison and the queen bee were stealing glances at the overtly inappropriate activity going on just a row over from them, I saw the brunette clench her jaw.

"Why would I?" she was clearly trying to seem level headed, although based on her pulse, I knew just how furious she was.

Hell, I couldn't blame her. It took all I had to keep from ripping those long, curly blonde locks from that slut's head myself, let alone if she were doing that to _my_ boyfriend.

"Because of that thing happening over there," Lydia's hazel eyes judgmentally glared at the arrogant tart still sexually harassing McCall. "That _definitely _requires some jealousy."

"You're not my type," Scott spat and grabbed Erica's hand before it could travel up to his crotch.

Not fazed by his unusually nasty tone of voice, Reyes merely let out a light, airy laugh: "I'm exactly your type."

"If you harm one _perfect_ strawberry blonde hair on her head, I'm gonna turn your little werewolf ass into a fur coat and give it to her as a birthday present," Stiles' completely serious, albeit humorous threat then reached my ears.

Barely even paying attention to the in-class assignment at hand, I simply stole looks at Stilinski and Lahey whilst mixing various ingredients together.

"Really?" Isaac chortled in complete amusement, before leaning forward with the oddest smirk on his cute face. "You know, I've never actually been to one of her big, invite-only birthday parties. I did ask her out once, though."

"Sounds like the beginning to a heartfelt story, but I'm gonna pass. Thanks," Stiles muttered cynically, brows raised and expression one of boredom as he, himself, dropped some of the white solvent into the liquid we were given.

Sudden obnoxiously loud throat clearing reverberating right into my ear, I quickly looked at my lab partner dangerously from the corner of my eyes.

How rude to interrupt me! Couldn't he see I had more important things on my mind?

Whatever had been bothering the odd nerd with greasy brown hair clearly slipped his mind, for the second my harsh gaze met his, nothing but an uncomfortable gurgling noise came from both his throat and stomach.

Shaking my head in complete exasperation, I turned the boiler flame on to the listed temperature and stole more glances at the bickering teenagers.

"It was the first day of freshman year," Isaac spoke as if it were a memory clear as day. "You know how you think everything's gonna be different for you in high school, but she said no," he then chuckled bitterly. "Yeah. She even _laughed_ at me. Told me to come back when the bike I rode to school had an engine, not a chain."

Following his beyond hateful glare to Lydia's blissfully ignorant face, I couldn't help but feel slightly empathetic for the guy. Lahey never had it easy. From an alcoholic and abusive father, a dead mother, and being a poor, social outcast, I knew his teenage years couldn't have been fun. And I also understood just how much of a cold, heartless bitch Lydia could be.

I mean the only reason why she even started talking to me was because I had a designer bag over my shoulder when I first stepped foot in the school…

"Yeah, well unrequited love's a bitch," Stiles was clearly speaking from experience, but then the pale, dorky human continued with his usual smart-ass manner: "Maybe you should write about it in English class, you know? Channel all that negative energy."

Cold, deep navy eyes growing even darker, Isaac made a face: "Nah, I was thinking I'd channel it into killing her." Then, he looked from the giggling queen bee to my own closely watching face, as if daring me to stop him. "I'm not very good at writing."

Temper flaring, I felt my blood boil whilst my grip tightened around the beaker in my manicured hands.

How could he have turned into this so soon? How could he have evolved into this… this bloodthirsty monster within weeks of turning?

Again, I knew he had a rough upbringing, but so did a lot of people, and they still weren't all about murdering others. No. It was Derek. My cousin, in his thirst for power and revenge, had corrupted my friend and turned him into a dangerous monster, Hell-bent on vengeance and getting even.

He was making him go dark-side… making him go down the road I had fought so hard to crawl back from… the road I was still struggling to walk. He needed to learn to channel that anger and pain, and not give into the beast inside of him.

Staring into those practically soulless, indigo eyes, I could see myself in them. He was almost a mirror image of my old self. The one that was lost and misguided and alone… fueled by rage and blindly following whomever seemed to match his blood lust.

I needed to reach him. To pull him back from that endless abyss, that almost seductive darkness that kept me numb for so long. That kept me inhuman.

I needed to lead him from the edge before he made a mistake that he could never come back from. I needed to do what Stiles had done for me, and Scott. I needed to be his friend, even when he didn't want one.

"You're not doing it right," the slightly chubby boy with black glasses finally caught my attention, his voice high and jumpy.

Nails still dug so deeply into my palms that my hands stung, I slowly turned to face his sheet-white face and cocked a brow, silently asking him what the Hell he was bothering me about.

"Y-you're not supposed to, um, to use s-sodium metal in t-this solution," Jared pointed at the broken up white dust I was about to pour into the bubbling water. "I-it can lead to a minor explosion."

Not even the slightest bit worried about setting off some silly fire alarm, I merely leaned forward, narrowed my eyes, and hissed: "And if you keep bothering me, something else will explode. Got it?"

Eyes as wide as saucers, Jared then emitted the lowest, most pathetic and choked whimper, and for a moment, I almost thought he might crap himself.

Fully satisfied with his response, I then gruffly handed him the beaker with a crooked grin and turned back to eavesdrop some more.

"Listen to me, okay? Don't talk to Erica or Isaac," Allison had clearly just connected the dots.

"Why?" the queen bee asked, brows furrowed and expression utterly lost.

"Just don't," the brunette pressed, but soon the timer buzzed, signaling the next rotation of partners. "Trust me, all right?"

"Switch!" Harris spoke sharply and impatiently, but as Stiles and Isaac continued to glower at one another, our chemistry teacher yapped even louder: "Ah, Mr. Stilinski, if you're trying to test my patience, I guarantee it'll be a failing grade."

Barely even acknowledging the pathetic adult male's words, Stiles grabbed Lahey's shoulder and demanded: "What are you gonna do to her?"

Turning to face the lanky dork as his eyes quickly flashed yellow, Isaac peeled Stilinski's hand off his leather jacket and responded with an ominous voice and expression: "Don't you think the better question is 'what's she going to do to us'?"

Staring after the tall wolf with wavy, light brown hair as he took a seat next to Miss Martin, Stiles couldn't help but let out a strangled gulp.

With Allison, Scott, Stiles, and my own heart racing quickly, I slid onto the next lab table's stool, eyeing both Erica and Isaac like a hawk.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Scott's voice came from beside me.

Glancing his way, I merely bit my lip, my own stomach knotting with the pain of waiting in baited breath.

"I have to say, you guys are cute together," Erica's scornful words made Scott and I glance over to his furious secret girlfriend and the young beta. "But you know, I've always had this feeling like I'm a little psychic, and I just don't think it's going to last."

"You think you can hurt me by sliding your hand up his thigh?" Allison was trying so hard to keep her voice even and face impassive, but I could see the anger swirling behind those usually warm brown eyes.

"Would you like it better if it were your thigh?" Erica suddenly dug her claws into the brunette's flesh, immediately causing Scott to lurch forward a bit.

Grabbing his forearm, I gave him a stern look, silently telling him to try to keep calm, although I myself, also was struggling to remain composed.

"Come on, girl fight in lab," Erica cooed, digging her deep red nails in even deeper into Allison's thigh, drawing some blood. "It'll be hot."

Brown eyes flashing, I saw the brunette mentally wrestling over whether or not she should give in and fight the manipulative bitch.

"Allison," I spoke softly, yet firmly, catching her gaze.

Giving her a slight, reassuring nod, the curly haired brunette attempted to force a small, reassuring smile, however, once Erica dug those claws in even deeper, her dimpled face twitched.

"Erica, back off," I snarled dangerously, only making the blonde laugh in sheer glee.

"If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal," Mr. Harris' voice interrupted once again. "And now, for the last part of the experiment that I'm sure you'll all enjoy, you can eat it."

Eyes widening as all three of us realized what was about to happen, Allison, Scott and my own head snapped forward to face Isaac and Lydia's table.

Of course the ingenious redhead had prepared the perfect experiment, and as Isaac held the beautiful crystalline object out to her, feigning politeness, Lydia beamed proudly.

Heart almost stopping, I couldn't help myself.

"Don't!" I stood up and yelped out frantically, yet when everyone, including my good friend turned and stared at me with the strangest of looks, my mouth went dry.

"What?" she asked, brows raised and voice somewhat impatient, no doubt just as uncomfortable to have the entire class, yet again, gaping at her.

Eyes darting over to Stiles, Allison, and Scott's helpless expressions, I then awkwardly glanced around the room, face growing hot from the dozens of eyes beaming in on me.

"N-nothing," I muttered, feeling somewhat defeated as we all powerlessly watched the ignorant queen bee place the crystal on her tongue and bite down with a sickening _crunch_.

* * *

><p>"Derek's outside waiting for Lydia," Scott rushed back into Coach Finstock's empty office, his face and voice both anxious.<p>

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison's orb-like brown eyes seemed to be larger than usual.

Glancing around at all three of my friends' worried, yet still hopeful expressions, I knew I had to just say what needed to be said. They needed to realize how serious this situation had truly gotten.

Getting up from my spot propped up in the corner of the smelly and cramped room, I folded my arms and firmly clarified: "If he thinks she's the Kanima, then yes. Especially after what happened at the pool."

Caramel eyes shooting over to me with the harshest of gazes, Stiles snapped fiercely: "It's not her."

Taking in his racing heart and panic-stricken expression, I knew Stilinski meant nothing by how rude his words actually came out, but I still could not help but be offended by his blatant attitude.

Running my tongue across my bottom lip and shaking my head, I scoffed at his stubbornness and shot him a disapproving look.

Retreating back to my spot in the corner, I merely bit my cheek whilst Scott surprisingly backed me up: "Stiles, she didn't pass the test, man. Nothing happened to her."

Fully aware that passing the test required Lydia seizing up the moment the venom touched those freshly glossed lips of hers, the entire atmosphere of the room grew heavier the moment McCall's words left his mouth.

"No, it can't be her," Stiles muttered, unable to look anyone in the face as he grappled with the harsh reality that his precious strawberry blonde may be the murderous creature attacking everyone in town (including himself).

"Look, it doesn't matter, because Derek thinks it's her," Allison's voice was stern, gaze darting from her boyfriend, to his best friend, and finally to my own callously impassive expression. "So either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"Well, I really don't think he's gonna do anything here, not at school," Scott mused out loud.

"He's right," I spoke up, voice even. "Derek's reckless, but even he's not stupid enough to make a move with Gerard's surveillance cameras everywhere." Staring darkly out the window rather than at Stiles as he sheepishly kept trying to catch my eye, I continued: "He'll wait. Until after school."

Letting out a loud sigh of frustration, the lovely brunette tried to keep up her positive outlook on the dismal situation: "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By 3:00?" Stiles even seemed skeptical, raising his brows.

"There could be something in the bestiary," she persisted.

"Oh, you mean the 900-page book written in archaic Latin that none of us can read?" Stilinski laughed at her suggestion. "Good luck with that."

And while Scott shot his best friend a scolding look, Allison's brilliant eyes lit up with sudden realization: "Actually, I think I know someone who might be able to translate it."

Furrowing his own brows as we all stared hard at the smirking brunette, Scott merely gave his girlfriend an inquisitive look, but once she nodded confidently, he caved: "Ugh, I guess I can talk to Derek… maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove that it's not her. But if anything happens, you guys let me handle it, okay?"

Catching the darker undertone to his words, Allison stepped closer to him, voice dropping ever so slightly: "What does that mean?"

All ready in a foul mood, I was too impatient for these emotional games.

"It means you can't heal like we do," my voice sounded almost bored, but when my best friend shot me a defensive look, I softened up slightly: "He just doesn't want you getting hurt."

Glancing at me with an appreciative expression, I gave a thankful McCall a curt nod before my eyes finally met Stilinski's. Those large, caramel pools were just watching my every move, almost begging for my attention.

I could tell he felt guilty for being short with me, but good! He should be! So why was my stomach churning like it was? And why did I unexpectedly feel the urge to just grin at the dork so that he'd stop looking so mopey?

Then, out of nowhere, Allison Argent whipped out a foldable black crossbow and shoved it right in McCall's stunned face, pulling me right out of my personal thoughts.

Proudly taking in all of our speechless faces, Allison flipped her dark brown, curly locks and smugly smirked: "I can protect myself."

And although Scott seemed very grave by how calm his romantic partner seemed to be with using such a weapon, I could only flash a small grin of approval.

I mean, that was pretty damn smooth…

"What?" Allison clearly read just how serious McCall was, almost frightened. "Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt," he stepped up to the fair young woman, took the lethal weapon from her hand, and replaced it with his own. "Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? I-I don't care if your dad finds out," he gripped her hand tightly, letting the crossbow fall to the desk with a low thump. "Call, text, scream, whatever. I hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can…"

Taking in their faces as they gazed lovingly at one another… a sight like that ordinarily would've made me ill, but now… now all of the sudden I felt a pit growing in my gut, like a hunger… or longing… and it made me beyond uncomfortable.

Shifting tensely, I tore my eyes off of the star-crossed lovers but my gaze unexplainably landed on Stiles'. Heart almost popping out of my chest, I felt my face growing hot, and so quickly brushing some hair out of my slightly flushed face, I awkwardly fumbled over my words: "G-guys, we only got until 3, and um, even that's a long shot."

Blinking a bit, Allison and Scott broke eye contact as the girl inquired: "What do you mean?"

Regaining my characteristically stoic composure, I placed my hands on my hips: "I know my cousin. Scott can play mediator all he wants, but I don't think it'll work.

"And as usual, you're the ray of sunshine we all look forward to hearing from," Stiles sarcastically quipped, but after I shot the nerd a severe look over my shoulder, he shut right up.

"All I'm trying to say is a plan B isn't such a bad thing, right?" I asked, brows raised whilst I patiently awaited everyone's inevitable response.

Looking at one another, all three of them simply shrugged in silent agreement.

"Great, so you guys go take Lydia somewhere safe while Scott does his whole hippie peacekeeper thing," I headed towards the door, getting ready to do whatever I could to throw a wrench in my older cousin's plot.

"Wait," Allison called after me, making me turn to face them all. "So what are you going to do?"

Watching Scott also move to the door, symbolically and physically electing to stand up and fight beside me against yet another Alpha, I couldn't help but feel a surge of loyalty wash over me; and not just to this beta, but his moral code as well. If he was willing to risk it all to save Lydia and any other innocent life in Beacon Hills, so was I.

Wicked and crooked smile flashing across my face, I then sassily replied: "What I do best… be a pain in the ass…"

Then, letting out a cheeky laugh, I clapped Scott's shoulder rather jovially, considering just how much danger we could possibly be walking into, but I couldn't help but be excited.

The prospect of not only irritating Derek, but getting in a few good rounds with that prideful son of a bitch was definitely an incentive enough for me.

Hand grasping the knob, I barely even opened the door a crack before a _click_ was heard, followed by a threatening whizzing noise.

Spinning around, my eyes instantaneously crossed as they met one of Allison's deadly arrows just centimeter's from my face, only having missed due to Scott catching it right in the nick of time.

Panting loudly and eyes wide, I listened to all four of our wildly thumping hearts, but rather than seeing an apologetic brunette behind the crossbow, everyone's gazes landed on a speechless Stiles Stilinski.

Gulping hard, the hyperactive spazz inelegantly dropped the weapon and threw his hands up into the air, attempting to sound as nonchalant about almost killing me: "S-sorry. Sensitive trigger on that thing."

Exhaling deeply for just escaping one of the most anticlimactic deaths of all time, I simply gave the clumsy dweeb a stern look, before shaking my head in frustration and stalking out the door.

* * *

><p>Having tapped into Gerard's security system and looping the tapes with yesterday's after-school footage, I couldn't help but be feel giddy.<p>

My heart was pounding and instincts heightened, as if every fiber of my being was electrified. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins and as my thoughts whirled about, I tried to think of the last time I had gotten into a good fight.

I knew Stiles and the others wouldn't approve, but I had been trying so hard to seem in control, to seem put together and live up to everyone's expectations that I honestly felt like I was drowning.

Sure I wanted to be a better person and be less erratic, but I also understood my moral compass would never point due north, and as long as I kept my abilities in check and didn't actually murder anyone or give into my drug habits, well indulging in a little mischief couldn't hurt too much.

Catching a whiff of Lahey's cinnamon chewing gum, I immediately perked up as a wicked smirk spread across my face. Pace enthusiastically picking up, I rolled my neck and swung my arms about, loosening up for the impending face-off.

Piercing gaze darting around the empty hallway, I listened to the sound of two pairs approaching footsteps. And with a final crack of my knuckles, I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with both Erica and Isaac.

They were across the hall and clearly just as thrilled as I felt, but once their eyes landed on me just standing there, arms crossed, their grins widened.

Eyes flashing that unnatural golden yellow hue, they began sauntering towards me, laughing as they dragged their extremely sharp claws against the lockers, sending sparks every-which-way.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once," Isaac practically sang, arrogant smirk plastered on his dimpled face. "Stay out of our way and we won't have to hurt you."

Cocking my head to the side, I examined my own nails as they continued to approach me, eyes murderous: "Sorry, but I can't do that."

"You know, I'm _actually_ disappointed," Erica spoke up, looking at me as if I were some pathetic annoyance rather than a real threat. "The way Derek talked about you I thought you were a badass. Drugs, murder, and a bitchy attitude. Someone I could at least respect."

Eyes flashing as I took in her deriding sneer, I ignored both Lahey and Reyes' sniggering as they stopped about five feet before me. I could feel the rage bubbling to the surface, however I merely smiled at both baby wolves.

"But now look at you," the blonde continued with a false-pout, circling my completely composed form. "A Hale taking orders from a bunch of teenagers? A werewolf being house trained by a human?" she leaned in and whispered into my ear. "It's embarrassing and you know it."

Heart rate rising ever so slightly, I fought the urge to turn around and slap the bitch, but I decided against it. So, swallowing my pride, I kept up my impassive and even slightly amused façade whilst watching the young girl return to her spot beside my old friend.

"Erica," I sighed lazily, tone of voice one of extreme boredom, "The only thing I find embarrassing is that _heinous_ outfit. I mean, even I know leopard print's out of style… and in polyester? It's like you _want_ everyone to know how low-class you are," I laughed haughtily, whilst Lahey yanked the now fully shifted and seething girl back.

If only Lydia could hear me now…

Smirk faltering slightly, my gaze then drifted up to Isaac's golden eyes: "You know you don't need to do this, right?"

"Actually, I think I do," his voice was cold, face twitching a bit as he tried to control himself from shifting fully. "And you wanna know what else I think?" the tall beta stepped right in front of the still foaming Erica. "I think that if it was up to you, I wouldn't have gotten the bite. None of us would have."

Watching him stare me down with such utter hatred, I couldn't help but become somewhat shaken. He was furious with me, like I had betrayed him in some way. Maybe not by telling him what I was or what was out there…

"You'd rather Erica still be shunned and I… I would've kept getting beaten by my father," he spat, face twitching with sheer wrath.

So that was it.

That's why he was so willing to follow Derek. He was Lahey's savior. And I was the selfish werewolf that just stood by and _let_ him get abused.

Guilt currently tearing apart my insides, it took all of my resolve to remain expressionless.

"I'd rather you two not become killers," I spoke calmly and evenly.

"Lydia's killing people too," Isaac retorted icily.

"You don't know that," I stepped forward defiantly, closing the gap between my soon-to-be opponents and me. "You're just following Derek's orders."

"Which is what you should be doing, right?" Erica now spoke up, expression demented as her face twisted into a cruel smirk: "Since you're an obedient and _stupid_ Delta."

Own claws growing from my nails beds, I was losing my battle to stay calm. "Derek's my cousin. Not my Alpha," I growled through slowly descending fangs. "I make my own choices."

Bursting out into derogative laughter, Erica snorted: "Sure you do. That's why you've been following Stilinski and McCall around like some lost puppy."

"Shut up," my body began to quake as I felt my blood boiling.

Brown eyes lighting up, I could tell that Erica was enjoying the fact that she was finally getting under my skin: "I just wonder if they'd even bother with you anymore if they knew who you really were…"

"I said shut up!" I barked, insides knotting and control slowly slipping away.

"We heard about that nurse you murdered," she continued to ignore my almost warning stares of blatant hatred.

"She was gonna kill Stiles," I hissed, grappling with the beast inside me, attempting to scratch its way out.

"And that man in the woods?" Erica cocked her brow, tone and expression one of delight whilst watching my angry face flicker with deep remorse.

How did she know about that?

Had Derek told them all of my mistakes? Was I that big of a disappointment that he used me as an example of what _not_ to become?

Anxiety shooting through the roof, I tried to give my explanation, but rather than sounding strong and resolute, my words were soft and timid: "H-he burned down my house… murdered my family."

"But you didn't just kill him, did you?" Erica callously spoke over my pitiful words, smile firmly planted on her face while I began to emotionally unravel.

Tearful eyes gazing up at the blonde's malevolent face, my woeful gaze landed on Isaac. I could see the boy thought his pack-mate was going too far, but after I gave him an almost pleading look to step in, Lahey merely swallowed his sympathy for me and remained silent.

"You tore him apart," she pushed on, before dropping her voice to an unfeeling whisper. "Just like your daddy."

Then, taking a step back, Erica triumphantly beamed, clearly hoping to watch me break down right in front of her, but rather than my welled up eyes being filled with sadness or guilt, all that was swirling behind them was white-hot rage.

"You know what?" my voice fell to a sinister growl. "You're right."

Blinking a bit, the blonde bombshell was obviously stunned by my response, and as I took a slow and dangerous step forward, cracking my neck in the process, both betas instinctively shuffled backwards.

"I did rip him apart, and I probably enjoyed it," I slowly confessed the darkest parts of myself, eyes unwavering as I stared Reyes down. "So maybe I am like my dad, and although that sucks for me," my eyes then flashed blue. "That's even _worse_ news for you."

Letting out a deep, echoing roar from the pit of my stomach, both werewolves growled furiously, also preparing to fight, and after a mere second in which we all inhaled deeply, we launched ourselves forward at full force.

Ducking Isaac's punch, I trucked right through Erica, tackling her to the ground so hard that the back of her head cracked the floor.

Kneeling on top of her, I got in a few good, hard punches, my claws tearing into her flesh as she yelped in pain. Then, throwing me off of her, I was sent flying backwards into a trashcan.

Quickly jumping to my feet, I turned just in time to see Isaac charging me, and as he leapt forward, I caught him by the throat in mid-air, slamming him down to the ground in one swift motion.

Kicking him, I saw his yellow eyes roll back into his monstrous head, and assuming that I had knocked him out, I turned my full attention and energy onto the advancing blonde teenager.

Dodging one swipe, I felt another slam into my gut, and letting out a low grunt, I stumbled backwards, only to just narrowly miss another attack.

Glancing down at my slightly torn shirt, I couldn't help but mumble: "Dammit."

Evidently thinking that I was distracted, Erica threw another punch to my face, but sensing the impending blow, I caught her fist, gripped her arm tightly, and twisted it.

_Snap!_

Crying out in a high-pitched howl of agony, Erica fell to her knees as her yellow eyes glared at me.

"I just bought this," I hissed, cracking her arm even more as she struggled against my iron grip.

Digging my claws deeper and deeper into her flesh, twisting the gnarled and bleeding limb further and further, I listened to both her cries of pain and racing heart, my thirst for vengeance ever growing.

She wanted to call me a pathetic Delta, or a mindless killer? Fine, I could take it. But accuse me of being like Peter, well that was something she'd definitely regret challenging me on…

Watching her sweating and contorted face, I heard her shoulder pop out of her socket and before she could yell out in pain, I kicked her square in the face with my heeled boot.

Falling limply to the floor with her nose bleeding heavily, I exhaled deeply, wiping some perspiration from my own brow, and as I turned to leave the messy scene before anyone could spot me, I received an immense hit to the side of the head.

Loud ringing piercing my ears, my vision went black for a split-second, but as I fell backwards into the nearest lockers, I slid to the hard floor.

Completely disorientated, my fingers traced around my woozy head and felt that familiar, sticky sensation of blood. Closing my eyes tightly, I reopened them, only to see the blurry, but color vision of Isaac tossing the empty trash can back to the floor and helping Erica up to her shaky feet.

Head pounding, I could barely see let alone hear what they were muttering amongst themselves, but once I heard the faint sound of Lahey stating that they were running out of time and needed to go, I couldn't help but smile.

Turning to leave, both betas began heading towards the library, where we falsely let slip Lydia would be studying after dismissal.

Soon, however, Isaac stopped and faced me as I continued to add pressure to the oozing gash on my hairline.

"You know, if you actually embraced the gift, you'd probably have been able to stop up," he almost sounded sad, as if he were a disappointed parent.

"I never needed to stop you," I puffed, still breathing heavily as I stared at their now human faces, "I just needed to distract you."

Stealing puzzled and highly alarmed glances at one another, both Erica and Isaac's eyes widened in realization as to what my plan was all along, and as they took off down the corridor, I let out a low, yet satisfied chuckle, only to lean my head back against the locker in pure exhaustion.


End file.
